Savior
by SteelCityMagnolia
Summary: When transporting a suspect goes wrong - very wrong - Sydney and Gage are led into a dangerous game of hide and seek. In order to survive, they'll need to rely on each other and come to terms with long-buried feelings in the process. **CHAPTER 14 NOW UP! - STORY COMPLETE!**
1. Chapter 1

_**DISCLAIMER: AS ALWAYS, I DO NOT CLAIM ANY OWNERSHIP OF ANY OF THE WALKER, TEXAS RANGER CHARACTERS, NOR IS ANY OWNERSHIP IMPLIED. **_

"Change in plans," Sydney Cooke announced, returning her cell phone to her pocket. "According to Walker, the Feds want us to take our friend to New Mexico. We're supposed to turn him over to the county sheriff at a border patrol office in Otero county and the Feds will pick him up and take things from there." She read off the route number and the exit Walker had given her. The breeze through the open passenger-side window tickled strands of her long dark hair across her face and she idly pushed them behind her ear.

"What happened to El Paso?" Francis Gage asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, what happened to El Paso? You can't do this, you know. I know my rights." Johnny Leftall, the prisoner in the back seat announced angrily.

"Apparently, the Feds have charges that trump what the rangers have. So, the Feds take priority and we get to go to New Mexico. I hear it's nice there this time of year." Sydney explained, her voice ringing with sarcasm.

"Yeah, nice and hot," Johnny Leftall announced.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see him," her partner replied. Francis Gage gave the man in restraints in the back seat a glance in the rearview mirror. "I know I'll be happy to see him gone."

Hearing Gage's remarks, the man behind them began to protest loudly. Sydney turned in her seat and stared him down.

"I told you seventy-five miles ago to sit there and be quiet. I meant it. Now pipe down so I can enjoy my extended road trip," she commanded.

"Lady, I'm hungry. And I gotta take a whiz. You can't treat a prisoner like this. I got rights you know."

"We know, Johnny. Believe me. We know," Gage replied with a hint of snark to his voice. Gage nodded toward a roadside sign that announced food and fuel. "Looks like you're in luck, pal."

A few minutes later, they pulled into a truck stop that had seen better days. While Sydney filled up the gas tank and went inside to order sandwiches and Cokes, Gage escorted their prisoner to the men's room, waiting outside for him to finish his business.

"Why can't we eat inside?" Johnny Leftall whined. "I'm telling you, it's not fair to be treated like this. I got rights!"

"We're not eating inside because a man in handcuffs and leg restraints draws too much attention," Sydney pointed out. "And besides, the waitress was my partner's ex-wife," she added with a smirk, winking at Gage. "If she saw him, she'd know how to find him and then poof! There goes what's left of his paycheck in alimony and child support for his eight kids."

Gage spit the mouthful of Coke he was trying to swallow when he burst into laughter.

"Funny, real funny." Leftall groused. "I'm going to tell my attorney to file a complaint against you people. I got rights and you two clowns think you're Saturday Night Live."

"Johnny, shut up and eat your sandwich so we can get back on the road," Gage ordered. He looked at Sydney and grinned, shaking his head. Who would have thought the rookie whose first assignment as a ranger was going undercover with him for nine months would have turned out to be the best partner he'd ever worked with? Who would have thought she would have become the best friend he'd ever had, and was such a firecracker, too?

* * *

Gage stepped out of the Otero county border patrol office and squinted his eyes against the bright desert sunlight. He walked back to the car where Sydney was waiting.

"This was the right place?" Sydney asked. She doubted the dusty little town was even on the map and was surprised the Feds would pick up a wanted man in such an out-of-the-way place.

"This was it, believe it or not. The sheriff was waiting for him and had all the paperwork on him."

"Seems strange, doesn't it? They must have been desperate to get their hands on Johnny Leftall." Sydney shrugged her shoulders. While it was odd, it probably wasn't the oddest thing she'd seen as a ranger, and if this is what the Feds wanted, whatever. They ruled the roost.

"They must have. He's their problem now. Give the sheriff fifteen minutes with him and he'll be begging the Feds to hurry up and take that pain in the ass off his hands." In all his years as a Texas Ranger, and with all the suspects and prisoners he had ever dealt with, Gage couldn't recall one who had been more annoying than Johnny Leftall.

"I hear that," Sydney replied. Johnny Leftall and his constant reminders about his rights had begun to grate on her nerves not long after they'd left Dallas. Sydney called Walker to let him know they'd delivered Johnny to the sheriff's office to await the Feds' pickup and then checked their directions back to the highway.

"Gage, did you ask them if there was anywhere to get a tire fixed around here?"

The right front tire had gone flat about twenty miles outside of the dusty little collection of buildings that made up a town. They still had another almost thirty miles to drive to the nearest motel and the spare didn't look or feel like it would make it half that far.

Gage made a face that answered Sydney's question. "I'll be right back."

Gage walked back into the border patrol office, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust and enjoying the momentary coolness of the air from the overworked air-conditioning unit in the window. The sheriff that had been sitting at the desk in the office area just a few minutes ago was nowhere in sight.

"Hello?" Gage called out tentatively. He walked down a narrow hallway painted an all-purpose, institutional shade of seafoam Sydney often referred to as "public restroom green." He chuckled to himself at the thought.

Voices at the end of the hall stopped him. Gage could see what looked to be a small area with a couple of holding cells. Johnny Leftall, still in cuffs and leg restraints, was kneeling on the floor. Gage opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, the source of one of the voices raised a hand holding a gun with a silencer and shot Johnny in the back of the head. The man slumped forward and sideways onto the floor, his unseeing eyes staring back at Gage.

"Shit," Gage hissed. Something told him this was not something he wanted to get himself and Sydney involved in, being completely out of their jurisdiction and without any kind of guidance from Walker. He turned and bolted down the hallway and back out of the building.

Sydney saw her partner exit the building at a dead run. On instinct, she slid across the front seat of the car.

"Drive, Syd!" Gage yelled as he neared the vehicle. He yanked open the passenger door as gunshots rang out from behind him. Sydney cranked the engine as shots continued firing in their direction. Gage tumbled into the car and slammed the door, pulling his gun from the holster on his hip to fire back.

"Drive. Go. Go!"

"What's going on?" Sydney asked, confused.

"I have no idea. Damn, Syd. They shot Johnny."

"What? Who?" Sydney looked at Gage, her mouth agape, nearly running them off the road.

"Drive, Syd!"

Sydney got the car back under control, its fishtailing wheels leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

"They shot Johnny. We gotta call Walker." Gage dug in his pocket for his cell phone.

"Shit! My battery's dead. Where's your phone?"

"In my pocket."

"Front or back"

"My right hip pocket."

Gage reached over and tried to wiggle Sydney's phone from the pocket of her jeans. A sudden exploding sound when the passenger-side mirror shattered made them both jump. Sydney glanced in the rear view mirror to make out the shape of a car in the cloud of dust behind them, and the shape of a person leaning out the window.

"Look out," she warned, swerving wildly across the road. A bullet pinged off the corner of the trunk.

Gage gave up searching for Sydney's phone and instead fired a few shots out the window. Unable to see well enough through the rising dust, he decided to wait until he had a better sight on his target.

The chase continued until a sign appeared on the right announcing their entry into Doña Ana County. Sydney had only caught a glimpse of it, but she noticed that the moment she passed the sign, their pursuers vanished.

"They're gone," she announced, breathing a long sigh of relief.

"I noticed. They backed off when we crossed the county line."

"What the hell happened back there, Gage?"

"I went back in to ask about getting that tire fixed and there was nobody around and nobody answered when I called out, so I went looking to see where everyone went. Johnny was kneeling on the floor in this room at the end of the hall. Someone else was in the room and shot him execution-style, Syd, right in the back of the head," Gage recounted the story.

"Holy…"Sydney breathed.

"No kidding."

"The sheriff shot Johnny Leftall?" Sydney asked in disbelief.

"I don't know who shot him. All I saw was a hand and a gun. I didn't see the sheriff. For all we know, he could be dead, too. I just know that we don't have any jurisdiction here and this isn't anything we can get involved with. Whoever killed Johnny had to have heard me leaving. That's probably who was after us."

"We have to tell Walker, Gage. He has to get ahold of the Feds in case they're walking into a trap," Sydney dug her cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to her partner. "Gage, your shoulder! You're bleeding!"

Gage looked down at his shirt, which was now stained a bright red. In all the excitement, he hadn't felt any pain but now he realized the sharp, stinging sensation that radiated through his shoulder and down his arm.

"I need to look at that," Sydney said, concerned. She slowed to pull into an abandoned service station, the spare tire giving way with a loud pop the moment she pulled onto the dusty lot.

"Great," Sydney hissed. "There went the spare."

* * *

"It's no use, Syd. There's no signal out here," Gage had been trying to call Walker but the calls wouldn't go through.

"Maybe this place still has a pay phone," Sydney offered hopefully, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice when she noticed the sweat beaded on her partner's brow. "First, though, I'm going to take a look at that shoulder."

Sydney knelt on the seat next to Gage and started unbuttoning his gray button-down shirt. She carefully peeled the blood-soaked fabric away from his shoulder to reveal a deep gash. Sydney grimaced. That gash needed stitches, but there was no telling where the nearest hospital was and no way of getting there with a blown spare tire and no cell phone service.

"You know, Syd, in all my fantasies about you undressing me, none of them ever involved being in the parking lot of an abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico," Gage cracked.

"Did they involve being grazed by a bullet?" Sydney retorted.

"No, can't say I ever fantasized about that, either. I'm not into that kinky pain stuff."

"Well, wiseass, you're lucky it was just a graze. Problem is, it needs stitched up. I can see what I can do with what's in the first aid kit, but we really need to get you to a doctor." Sydney gave Gage a serious look to let him know she was done joking around.

"That bad, huh?"

"It could be worse." Sydney got out of the car and dug around in the trunk. She came back with their go-bags, a bottle of water, and the first aid kit.

"Let me see what I can do," she said, twisting the lid off the bottle. In a few minutes, she had the wound cleaned and bandaged as well as she could to try to hold the edges of the wound as closely together as possible.

"Well, Nurse Cooke, I'd say you did a fine job," Gage raised his arm up and down a few times, wincing at the pain that was still there.

"As long as your arm doesn't fall off, we'll be in good shape. But we're getting a doctor to look at it the first chance we get," Sydney admonished.

Gage looked around at their dismal surroundings. "You think this place has a pay phone?"

Sydney surveyed the view with a critical eye. "I doubt it." She dug around in the console for some change. "I'll look anyhow." She handed Gage what was left of the bottle of water she used to clean his wound. "Stay here. And drink that. I'll be right back." She gave Gage a stern look before she turned on her heel and headed toward the abandoned building.

The place looked like the land that time forgot, she thought. Weeds nearly as tall as she was had grown up through cracks in the pavement and sidewalk and around the pump islands where the pumps had long ago been removed. Across the lot, the ground was permanently tattooed with oil stains from cars that had been there and gone. Through the dirt-encrusted windows, she saw old signs that encouraged drivers to "Put a tiger in your tank!" So this had been an old Exxon station at one time, she noted. One half of the building looked to be a garage, while the other seemed to be a waiting area that offered vending machines, maps, and various travel sundries. A large framed map of New Mexico hung on the wall with what was probably once a brightly colored arrow proclaiming "You are here." A sign hanging haphazardly from a broken chain directed the way to the restrooms and vinyl chairs with the stuffing swelling out of rips and tears lined one wall.

Syd moved to the garage side of the building, hopeful. Maybe there might be a tire, and between her and Gage, they might be able to figure out how to get it mounted and on the car. One look through the window told her no luck. The garage had been stripped bare. She walked around the corner of the building and saw what she was looking for – a faded sign for a telephone. She nearly skipped and danced to the booth with its cracked and yellowed Plexiglas privacy enclosure only to find the phone had been removed.

"Damn it."

Sydney headed back to the car, dejected.

"No phone?" Gage asked.

"Well, there was one at one time. How's your shoulder?"

"It's not the worst pain I've been in, but I know it's there."

"I'm sorry, Gage. I tried."

"You did a good job, Syd. Don't worry about it. I'll be okay."

They sat in silence for several long moments, the only movement around them coming from the beginnings of a small tumbleweed's feeble attempts to cross the empty parking lot. Dusk was starting to settle over the stark landscape and the bright sunlight gave way to long shadows that stretched like menacing fingers toward their refuge.

"So what do we do now?" Sydney asked.

"I guess the best thing to do is stay here for the night. I doubt there's much traffic on this road as it is so there's probably less at night. I think we should try to move the car behind the building, though, just in case," Gage replied.

"Good idea." Sydney slid back into the driver's seat and limped the car around the dilapidated garage to where it would be out of sight from anyone passing by.

"I saw some maps in the building. They're old, but they'll be better than nothing. Maybe tomorrow morning, I can try to get inside and get one and see if we can't find our way back to civilization," Sydney said.

"Sounds good."

"For now, though, we should probably try to get some sleep." Gage looked tired, Sydney thought, and she was a little worried about him.

"Yeah." Gage sounded just as tired as he looked, which didn't ease Sydney's worry any.

Sydney got out of the car and rummaged through the trunk for a couple of minutes. She returned with another bottle of water, a handful of small packages of snacks, and a blanket. Gage looked at her in amazement.

"Where were you hiding all that? You have a QuikTrip in the trunk or something?" he asked, reaching for the package of peanut butter crackers she offered.

"I always have this stuff in the trunk," Sydney replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Never know when we're going to get sent on a stake-out and I'll be stuck for hours listening to your stomach growl!" Sydney giggled.

"Then why don't you offer up any of this buffet?" Gage asked.

"Because you always insist on driving."

"Oh. Makes sense." Gage nodded, munching on a cracker.

"We should probably take it easy on the water, though. I only have a few bottles left. And there's just one blanket."

"Is that a problem?" Gage asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

"No. You can have it. I'll be fine." Sydney opened up a package of granola bars and leaned her head against the window to look up at the sky which was now filling with stars.

"Wonder where we are, exactly?" she mused.

"Guess we'll find out tomorrow," Gage replied.

Sydney finished her granola bars and nestled into the seat and closed her eyes. In moments, she was asleep. Gage smiled to himself as he unfolded the blanket and tucked it around her.

"Goodnight, Syd," he whispered. He leaned back against the passenger-side window and watched Sydney sleep. It was a long time before he was able to fall asleep himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Johnny Leftall wasn't a smart man and never claimed to be, but when he came up with the plan to bilk the kingpin of a drug trafficking ring out of what had the potential of being millions of dollars, he had to admit, he felt pretty damned ingenious.

It started one night in a little rathole of a bar in some no-name town in Texas. Johnny was drinking and trading smiles with the peroxide blond sitting in the corner and trying to ignore the fact that the IRS had sent him greetings in the mail. It wasn't even his birthday or Christmas, either. That's what he got for letting his ex-wife's brother do his damn taxes, he thought. Now he was being audited and Lord knew what he was going to owe those motherfuckers in D.C. Before too long, the blond approached him, a Marlboro Light 100 tucked between her glossy lips and asked his name. Then she asked if he was interested in a job. Johnny told her he had a job, but then, remembering the IRS, said he was always looking for an opportunity, especially if it paid cash.

It paid cash, she told him. And it was easy work. Easy, she emphasized, running her crimson fingernails along the collar of his shirt. Johnny bit and the blond set the hook. All he had to do was make pick-ups and deliveries. His territory would be west Texas and eastern New Mexico, all the way down to the Mexico border. It would be a lot of driving, but there were no hard and fast schedules to stick to. Just make the pick up within the timeframe he was given and make the delivery in a week. They'd even provide him with the appropriate vehicle, so he wouldn't have to use his own beat up Silverado. The only rule he had to follow was not to get in any trouble with the cops – no speeding tickets, no parking tickets, no DUI's, and for God's sake, don't go messing around and crossing the border. How hard could it be?

At first, Johnny just made his pick-ups and deliveries and didn't bother to ask questions. There was nobody to ask, really. He went to a warehouse, picked up a few boxes or crates and moved along to wherever he needed to go. He liked the solitude and often wondered why he never became an over-the-road truck driver years ago.

Because Darlene would have had a class-A hissy-fit, that's why. Yeah. That was the whole reason. Darlene wanted a husband who was home every night for supper and in church every Sunday morning. A lot of good that did him. Fifteen years of that shit and it was off to the attorney's office to claim irreconcilable differences - irreconcilable differences being his having a problem with her liking to spend money and her having a problem with his liking to drink and screw the secretary at the plant every now and then.

So Johnny made his pick-ups and his deliveries and took home a big, fat envelope of cash after each trip. All was good, at least up until his curiosity got the better of him. One night, sitting outside of a Motel 6 just east of Albuquerque, Johnny decided to finally take a look and see what was in the crates he was hauling in the back of an old Ford box truck. He nearly passed out when he pried the lid off the crate and moved a handful or so of the packing material to find it full of plastic-wrapped bricks of cocaine. He hurried and re-covered the bricks with the packaging and hammered the crate lid back on. When he crawled out of the truck, anyone passing by would have thought he was in the midst of a heart attack; he was pale and nearly hyperventilating and sweating through his shirt. Johnny spent the night pacing his hotel room, understanding now why the only rule was to stay out of trouble with the law. He made the delivery, collected his pay, and decided he was done. He was going to change his phone number and not do any more jobs for the man he only knew as the Chief

On the way home, though, he had time to think. A little searching online and he had concocted himself a plan. Nobody ever saw him pick up the goods and nobody was ever around when he dropped them off. He went to warehouses or buildings presumably owned by the Chief or the Chief's men, punched in codes that were likely changed all the time on the keypads at the doors, made the drops and went on his merry way. He never saw or talked to anybody and he had plenty of time to carry out what he thought was an absolutely brilliant idea. Johnny read online how drug dealers would mix cocaine with cornstarch to stretch the good stuff and make more money. Why couldn't he cut the bricks in half, keep half of the coke for himself, replace what he took with cornstarch and repackage the bricks? He could then take his half of the coke and head off to the other end of Texas and sell it – say in Dallas or Houston? Hell, he could venture as far east as New Orleans or even head up to Memphis or Little Rock. He could find dealers to handle the dirty work if he had to and make more money than the Chief was paying him to drive his blow all over the southwest.

Smart. Johnny was rather impressed with himself. So impressed that he nearly pissed himself from excitement the next time he got a call from the Chief's guy. Sure he could make that pick-up. No problem. _Cha-ching!_ He could almost count the cash rolling in.

* * *

"I know how you are about getting these drug dealers off the streets, Walker, but Johnny Leftall isn't much of a dealer to begin with, considering he wasn't even selling drugs," Alex Cahill-Walker leaned across the table to explain the situation to her husband.

"What are you talking about?" James Trivette circled the table and sat down, his brow wrinkled with confusion and frustration. "We caught him with twenty bricks of cocaine, Alex."

"No, you caught him with twenty bricks of cornstarch. Either somebody was trying to set him up, or he is the dumbest drug dealer to ever walk the streets of Dallas," Alex tried to contain a snicker.

Trivette and Walker looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Cornstarch?" Walker asked.

"Cornstarch." Alex replied. "My suggestion is to try to find out where he got it to see if he was set up and then –" She was interrupted by one of the Company B rangers who poked his head in the room to tell Walker he had a call.

Walker picked up the phone and punched up the line that was flashing on hold.

"Walker." He listened for a moment. "I understand… Yes… But I don't think we can hold him since technically he was selling cornstarch and not cocaine… I see… Okay. I'll have Rangers Cooke and Gage drive him out there."

Walker hung up the phone and gave Alex a smug grin. "That was Captain Phillips from the Company E headquarters. It came up in their database that we were holding Johnny Leftall and it turns out, he's wanted out in El Paso for drug trafficking. We don't have anything to hold him on here, but apparently, El Paso has a ton of evidence against him. I'm going to have Sydney and Gage drive him out to El Paso tomorrow."

"Okay," Alex shrugged as she turned to leave the room. "I sure wouldn't want to be the DA on that case, though. Better him than me."

"And that's one more dangerous drug dealer off the streets of Dallas. Who would have thought," Trivette mused, "that cornstarch was everyone's latest addiction!"

* * *

"But that lady DA told me they couldn't hold me on nothin' here," Johnny Leftall complained loudly.

Walker and Trivette had taken Johnny Leftall to an interrogation room on a last-ditch effort to try to find out where he'd gotten his supply of 'cocaine'. They had just informed him that he was being transported to El Paso the next day.

"That's right," Walker agreed. "We can't hold you on anything here. But the El Paso DA has something you can be held on, so you're going to El Paso tomorrow."

"What's he got? I didn't do nothin'!" Johnny slammed his palms on the table as he stood and shouted at both rangers.

"Easy there, pal," Trivette reasoned. "We don't know what he has. All we know is that he has something, so we have to turn you over."

"I know my rights! You can't do this! I at least get a phone call. You gotta let me call my lawyer!" Johnny Leftall pounded his fist on the table, emphasizing each word. "I mean it! I have rights!"

Cordell Walker shook his head and gave a mental eye roll. How many times had he heard suspects demand something because of their 'rights?'

"Okay," Walker said with a sigh, giving James Trivette a knowing look. "You can have your phone call. But you still have to go to El Paso tomorrow. Be sure to explain that to your attorney so he knows that he'll need to deal with the El Paso county DA."

When Johnny Leftall was given a phone, he didn't call his attorney. He dialed a number he had been told to commit to memory when he began working for the Chief. He had been given the number for occasions just like this – in case he was ever picked up by the police. No, no, he protested. He had a lawyer.

Screw your lawyer, the voice on the other end of the phone told him. Call this number instead. We will get you out of jail or post bail money faster than any attorney can. Just go with the flow and wait. Our people work behind the scenes. We know what strings to pull and we have the money to make things happen. We will take care of you. Just call this number.

They insisted, Leftall, thought. Let's see how good they are.

The phone rang twice and someone answered with a curt "Who is it?"

"Johnny Leftall."

"What's the problem, Leftall?"

"Ummm, ahhh…. They told me to call this number…"

"Yeah. You in trouble?"

"I ahhh, yeah. I guess. The Texas Rangers picked me up in Dallas. They're taking me to El Paso tomorrow."

"The fuck you doin' in Dallas?"

"Vacation?" Johnny answered sheepishly.

"What's the charges?"

"Nothing here in Dallas, but El Paso has something on me."

After some mumbling on the other end of the line that Johnny couldn't make out, the voice came back on the line. "Go with them to El Paso and stay cool. We'll take care of things."

Click.

Johnny stared at the phone in his hand. That was it? How were they going to take care of things? Who were they anyhow?

Suddenly, Johnny Leftall didn't feel quite so ingenious anymore.

* * *

His cell phone rang while he was eating lunch at Carmen's Café, the best place in town for lunch. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and answered it. After a short conversation, he turned to his lunch partner.

"Johnny Leftall. Isn't that the guy Sharon found in that dump of a bar she likes to hang out at?"

"The new guy?" Will Aquilino asked.

He nodded, taking another bite of his burrito. Sauce dripped down the front of his shirt. "Goddamn," he growled, smearing the sauce in an effort to clean it with a handful of napkins. "Carm! Need more napkins here!"

A short, chubby lady with graying hair brought him another stack of napkins and a glass of water. "Ay, Dios. Change your shirt at work y bring me that one later. I clean it. Make it all better," she spoke in heavily-accented, semi-broken English.

When she left, he explained the phone call to Will. "Says the Texas Rangers got him and are taking him to El Paso. We gotta get ahold of that idiot before he runs his damn mouth. If that stupid fucker talks, we'll all be sitting in the can."

"How do we do that?" Will asked between mouthfuls of Carm's famous cornbread.

"Let me think on it, Will. Meanwhile, call Sharon and tell her she's cut off. I'm done bailing her shit-for-brains recruits out of the hole. Intelligence has nothing to do with how loud they make her scream in bed."

By the end of the day, he had a plan and some carefully forged paperwork. All he needed to do was make a couple of very official-sounding phone calls and Johnny Leftall was a problem that was as good as solved.

Or so he thought.

* * *

When his phone rang again at midnight, he had a feeling it was trouble. He recognized the number instantly and knew that not only was the call nothing good, it was probably going to ruin his entire week.

"Yeah, Alejandro?"

"We got some business to discuss. Now."

"Now's not good. Something's come up with one of my men, can it wait a day or two?"

"No, you double-crossing motherfucker, it can't wait. I'll be there in an hour. And you had better have a damn good explanation for this, or I'm going to cut your neck."

The phone disconnected and he sat silently for a few minutes, wondering just what the issue was. Alejandro was his biggest dealer, taking a huge shipment every other week. He collected his thoughts and made a couple of phone calls. He didn't usually have men on hand to back him up, but given how angry Alejandro was, it probably wouldn't hurt to have some help this time.

* * *

Alejandro slammed the two identically-wrapped bricks of coke down on his desk.

"Notice anything different?"

He looked at them closely. At first glance, they looked the same, but when he ran his hands over the packaging, he felt it. One of the bricks had been slit open and re-wrapped.

"Maybe the package broke while they were wrapping it. Really, Alejandro. A slight difference in packaging is nothing to be this upset about."

"It is when the opened package is one-hundred percent cornstarch!"

"The fuck?"

"You heard me."

"That can't be. I was assured by the cartel that I was getting premium quality product."

"And then what? Double-crossing us and selling the good shit to someone else for more money?" From what seemed out of nowhere, Alejandro produced a knife and leaned in, the tip of the knife dangerously close to the baffled kingpin's jugular. "I told you I was going to cut your neck for this."

"There has to be some explanation. Let me see. Will, open these."

Will Aquilino stepped forward and opened both packages of cocaine. After close examination by several men, it was determined that yes, the previously opened and repackaged brick was cornstarch. The real surprise came when they checked the brick that was in the cartel's unopened packaging. It, too, was cornstarch.

"Those sons of bitches!"

"And I was selling this? How the hell am I supposed to do business when the product is shit?" Alejandro's knife waved dangerously close to its target once more.

"I'll give you back what you paid for it."

"What about the profit I'm losing?"

A long moment of silence passed, followed by an irritated sigh. "And the fucking profit. Stay here." He stood and crossed the room, several of his men following him as he left. A few minutes later, he returned with a briefcase. He opened it and showed the contents to Alejandro.

"Does this help you?"

Alejandro fingered the stacks of bills inside and smiled. "Very much so." He closed the briefcase and snapped it shut.

"As always, _jefe _it's a pleasure to do business with you," he said as he gathered his men and left the house.

He let out a long, low breath, angry but thankful at how things had gone. He looked over the packages again for any markings, asking one of the men who would have last delivered product to Alejandro.

"Leftall," the man replied.

"That miserable sonofabitch," he hissed. "Will, take some men down to meet the supplier. Find out what they are doing and let them know we know all about their little game. I'll take care of Leftall when we get him back from the rangers."

* * *

"Okay, Johnny, this is where you get out," Francis Gage opened the car door and helped Johnny Leftall out of the sedan and walked him across the dusty parking lot into the building where they were instructed to hand him over to the Otero county sheriff.

Inside the building they met Sheriff Wallace Pickford. Pick as he was known to his employees and his friends, was sitting at the desk inside the door, leaning back in an old faux-leather desk chair, his feet propped on top of the desk. His head was tilted back at what seemed like an uncomfortable angle. Gage wasn't sure if he was dead or alive until the man snored and startled himself awake. Seeing Gage and Johnny standing there, he jumped to his feet and extended his hand, apologizing for his short cat-nap. It was the heat, he explained. He never did get used to it. After quick introductions, Sheriff Pickford handed Gage a packet of paperwork he said was faxed to him from the feds.

"You can look that over, make sure it all looks in order to you. It looked pretty clear to me. If it's okay, give it your autograph there on the last two pages. That last page is yours and you can be on your way, Ranger," Pickford said.

Gage looked over the paperwork and noted that everything seemed to be in order. He signed off where he needed to, waited for the sheriff to sign where he needed, took his copy, and left the most annoying prisoner in his history of rangering in the sheriff's custody.

The drive back to Dallas was going to be almost ten hours tomorrow, but Gage was looking forward to it. It was ten hours he'd get to spend with Sydney, just talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company.

* * *

Johnny Leftall knelt on the floor in front of him, still in handcuffs and restraints.

"I'm sorry, man, I didn't know! I didn't!" Leftall cried.

"And you thought you could double-cross me and get away with it. Thin the coke out with a little cornstarch, go sell some on your own? Sell it in Dallas, huh? That way I wouldn't find out? Well, guess what, Johnny-Boy! Not only did I find out, but what you were selling was one-hundred percent pure cornstarch. Ain't nobody in Dallas gettin' high off that shit!"

Johnny looked shocked.

"It was just one time, man, I'm sorry! It won't happen again, I swear to Jesus, man!" Johnny pleaded.

"You're goddamn right it won't."

He lifted the pistol to the back of Johnny's head and fired, watching with satisfaction as the man slumped forward onto the cold cement floor. A noise from out in the hall startled him and he motioned to the other man in the room. They had made sure nobody else was in the building and had watched the blond ranger leave before they herded Leftall into the room of holding cells at the end of the hall.

He caught a glimpse of the ranger as he bolted out the door. They ran out the door behind him, firing shots. This was not the way this was supposed to go down. Now they had a witness, and witnesses made things messy.

As far as he was concerned, there was only one way to clean up that kind of mess.

"Get the car," he ordered his man.

They followed the tan sedan out of town at a high rate of speed, catching a break when the sedan ran off the road and fishtailed back onto the pavement. His man, an expert former military sharpshooter was able to hit the car a couple of times before the dust made seeing their target almost impossible. They chased the rangers to the county line where they pulled off the road, letting the sedan fade into the distance.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking of his next move. There were a few people who owed him some favors, maybe it was time to call them in. Yes, yes it was. And when he called in favors, he always got what he wanted in return.


	3. Chapter 3

Sydney awoke and tilted her head from side to side, trying to work out the uncomfortable kink in her neck. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and checked the time – just a little shy of three thirty. She noticed the low battery indicator and cringed, deciding it was probably best to just shut her phone off for now and conserve what little battery was left. Nobody was going to try to call her at this absurdly late – or early – hour anyhow. She shifted in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position to go back to sleep. As her eyes became more adjusted to the inky blackness of night, she could make out the shape of the building they had taken cover behind and, beyond the glass of the windshield, the desert landscape. Even though the rocks and patches of scrub grass looked more desolate at night, it had an oddly peaceful feeling, Sydney decided.

As she settled in for a few more hours of sleep, she heard a faint sound in the distance. She rolled her window down some more and leaned toward the direction of the noise and waited, nearly holding her breath until she heard it again.

There it was. She hadn't imagined it.

"Gage."

In the passenger seat next to her, her partner's steady, even breathing told her that he was sound asleep.

"Gage," Sydney repeated, a bit louder this time. She reached over and gently tapped his knee. "Gage, wake up."

His breathing pattern changed slightly and he moved in response to her touch and her voice, but he didn't wake up, so she tried one more time, this time, shaking his arm the slightest bit and calling his name a bit louder.

Gage woke with a start and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

"What, what?"

"Gage, I heard something."

Instinctively, Gage's hand went to the holster on his hip as he scanned the darkened landscape for any signs of danger.

"No, listen, just listen," Sydney instructed, holding her hand up to still her partner's movement.

They both sat very still and nearly breathless, listening and waiting for what Sydney had heard.

And then, there it was. From off in the distance came a faint but unmistakable _ratatatatat._

"That. Did you hear that?" Sydney asked.

A slow smile spread across Gage's face as he recognized the sound. "Air brakes!" he exclaimed. "There are trucks somewhere, slowing down for some reason, probably getting off a highway! We must be close to an exit!"

Gage got out of the car and walked around slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He walked toward the direction of the sound they'd heard and watched and waited. Sure enough, he heard it again. He kept looking toward the direction of the sound until he saw what it was he was looking for.

"Syd, look!" He pointed off in the distance. "If you look over there, you can see a little bit of light every now and then. It could be headlights. I think the highway is over that way."

"There was an old map on the wall in there," Sydney gestured toward the old gas station. "We need to get a look at it tomorrow. Maybe it'll tell us where that highway is. We're not quite as lost as we think we are!" she replied excitedly.

* * *

"So how do you propose we get in," Sydney asked, "break a window?" Sydney and Gage were looking around the abandoned service station for some way to get inside to take a look at the map she had noticed on the wall.

"Maybe there's a way around back, another door, or a window that is already broken." Gage started around the corner of the building toward the garage.

"Look at this! I think I found something!" he shouted to Sydney. Toward the back of the garage a wooden door sat askew in the doorway, swelled from the intense desert heat and dry-rotted on its hinges. Sydney shoved at it as hard as she could, but it wouldn't budge. She gave it another hard shove, this time throwing all her weight against it and still, the door stood strong.

"Stand back, Syd." Gage issued a hard kick to the door and one of the hinges gave way. One more hard kick and the second hinge loosened just enough that they were able to push the door open wide enough for them to squeeze through into the empty service bay.

The hot, stale air made Sydney cough. "Ugh. It's miserable in here."

Somewhere behind them, something rustled underneath a stack of old paper and cardboard. Sydney jumped.

"Rat, bat, or snake," Gage teased. "Just watch your step. This place is probably crawling with all kind of wildlife."

A quick look around the garage confirmed what Sydney had noticed yesterday – there was nothing available for them to use to fix their flat tire or the blown spare. They made their way into the waiting area and crossed the room to the giant, faded map hanging on the wall. Just as Sydney had expected, a push-pin marked a spot on the map identifying their current location. They found the town where they dropped off Johnny Leftall and roughly estimated what their route was from the town to where the push-pin said they were.

"I don't see a highway anywhere on here," Sydney said, "and from where we saw those glimmers of light last night, the highway should be somewhere about here." She traced a line on the map with her fingernail.

"My guess is that when they built the highway, it bypassed this area and that's why this place closed up. They probably put a truck stop or a gas station at the exit where we heard those trucks slowing down," Gage reasoned. "We have an idea of what direction we need to go; we just need to figure out how to get there."

"Well, there certainly isn't anything in here that's going to help us," Sydney lifted her hair off her neck with one hand and fanned herself with the other. Even though it was early morning, it was already hot inside the building.

"Yeah. It's hot, and it's only going to get hotter. If we're going to try to find that highway exit, our only choice is to walk and we should start now," Gage suggested.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Sydney replied.

* * *

"You know, when we do get to this highway exit, if it even exists, I hope it has a five-star hotel with a pool and a hot cabana boy," Sydney remarked, pausing to shift her go-bag onto her shoulder.

"You're with me and you want a hot cabana boy?" Gage teased. "I'm insulted!"

"I'll skip the cabana boy if they have a spa. I'm definitely going to need a massage after this," Sydney decided instead. They'd been walking for a couple of hours and between the kink in her neck from sleeping in the car and the weight of the go-bag on her shoulder, Sydney's back was starting to hurt and a massage sounded heavenly.

"Listen," Gage paused and held up his hand, motioning for Sydney to be quiet. "Do you hear that?"

The sound of a truck's air horn drowned out Sydney's reply, but as they topped a small hill, they saw it – a highway and a set of exit and entrance ramps splayed out before them like unraveling gray ribbons.

"Yes!" Sydney exclaimed, dancing around in a circle on the dusty ground.

Gage laughed at his partner's sudden exuberance, but he felt exactly the same. "I don't see any five-star hotels, Syd, but I do see a truck stop restaurant, and as far as I'm concerned, that's about the same thing. I'm starving. Let's go call Walker, get something to eat, and figure out how we're getting back to Dallas."

"Preaching to the choir, Gage, preaching to the choir," Sydney replied as she led the way down the hill toward their first stop closer to home.

* * *

Cordell Walker hung up the phone and rubbed his hand over his face. Something was wrong, very wrong, and he didn't like it. He called James Trivette into his office.

"Yeah, Walker."

"Sit down."

"This doesn't sound good." Trivette and Walker had been partners for a long time, and while Trivette may not have had Walker's Cherokee intuition, he knew his partner well enough to know when there was a problem. This was one of those moments.

"Jimmy, have you heard anything from Sydney or Gage?"

"No, but they're driving back from New Mexico today, so I wouldn't expect to."

"I just got a call from Captain Phillips at the Company E office in El Paso. They're waiting for Syd and Gage to bring Johnny Leftall in. They should have been there yesterday."

"Yesterday? I thought they were taking Leftall to New Mexico."

"They were. That's what I told him. I told him his office called and said the Feds wanted Johnny and that they'd made arrangements for us to hand him over to the Otero county sheriff. And I told him that Sydney called and said they'd made the handoff. "

"But Company E never made the call," Trivette filled in the rest of the story.

"Exactly. And now, I can't reach either Sydney or Gage and their phones keep going straight to voicemail."

"I'll put a call in to the Otero county sheriff's department," Trivette said as he stood to leave Walker's office. "And I have a feeling we'll be heading to New Mexico?"

Walker grinned. "I knew if I worked with you long enough, my Cherokee intuition would eventually rub off on you!"

* * *

Sydney and Gage were greeted by a rush of air-conditioned coolness; the smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee that immediately made their stomachs growl; and a cheery 'Mornin' y'all, just sit wherever you want' from a waitress in a black and white polyester waitress's shift dress, an apron, comfortable shoes, red hair and too much red lipstick.

"I'm Nadine," she said, pouring coffee into the cups that were already on the table they chose in the row along the windows. "Y'all have a look at the menus and I'll be right back."

Sydney handed Gage her cell phone so he could give Walker a call while she excused herself to the ladies' room. Gage powered up her phone and scrolled through her speed dial numbers to find Walker, scowling as he noticed a name – Kevin. Who was Kevin? Syd hadn't mentioned anything about a Kevin recently, but apparently he was important enough to be on speed dial. Gage felt a twinge of jealousy. Of course he had feelings for Syd, it was hard not to. Because of their jobs, they were always together, and when they weren't at work, they usually ended up hanging out together, too. Usually, Gage thought, unless Syd had a date with _Kevin._ Just the idea made Gage feel sick and pissed off. He didn't know the guy and already he didn't like him.

Gage found Walker's number and punched it up just to hear Sydney's phone beep a couple of times as the battery wound down and died. Sydney came back to the table and Gage handed her the dead phone.

"So much for that," Gage reported.

"You didn't get Walker?"

"Battery's dead."

Sydney looked around the room and spotted a cowboy hanging on a payphone in the corner. "We're in luck," she said, nodding toward the cowboy.

Nadine noticed Sydney's nod as she came to take their orders and refill their coffees. "Y'all need the phone? Loye's been on it all morning. Wife kicked him out, bless his heart. Told him if he went off ridin' the rodeo one more time, she was done. He didn't believe her and spent the last three weeks on the circuit. Came home to find the locks changed and all his stuff out in the yard. He's been on that phone for the better part of an hour now, beggin' Amy to take him back. It's gonna take an act of God and congress both to change her mind, and I hate to tell him, ain't neither one gonna do business for him today."

"That's okay," Sydney said. "We'll eat breakfast and make our call when we're done."

Nadine pulled out a pad of order slips and a pen. "What can I get for y'all?" She looked at Gage. "Handsome, you look like a steak and eggs kind of guy."

Sydney gave a mental eye roll. What was it with women always calling Gage 'handsome?' He sucked it up like a Hoover Deluxe, too.

"That was exactly what I was thinking of," Gage said with a smile, snapping the menu shut.

"And you, darlin'?" Nadine asked Sydney.

"A veggie omelet and toast, please," Sydney replied.

"Yeah, the girls never go for the steak and eggs, leastwise, not the skinny ones," Nadine laughed. "And they're the ones who can use it! Men like a little meat on those bones! Tell me you at least want some bacon to go with your omelet, honey, a slice or two?"

"Okay, you talked me into it," Sydney smiled. She knew Nadine meant well, and she was hungry.

"And he ought to be off that phone soon," Nadine turned toward Loye, sighed and rested a hand on a sassily cocked hip. "Loye, you can beg all you want, but if Amy hasn't said yes yet, she ain't gonna. Take a break from that phone already. Other people might need to make some calls around here," she fussed, loud enough for the cook in the kitchen just beyond the counter to hear and snicker.

Loye raised his middle finger to Nadine in a hearty salute.

* * *

Breakfast in the diner at the height of the morning rush was suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunshots and glass shattering. Sydney and Gage both dove under the table and pulled their guns from their holsters as all around them the air was filled with the sound of screaming and shouting, breaking dishes and shattering glass as people scrambled for cover amidst all the gunfire

"Everyone get down, get down!" Gage shouted as he took cover behind the diner's counter and tried to identify the source of the shooting, firing in the direction the shots were coming from. Sydney knelt at the end of the counter and did the same, firing shots toward the window where they were sitting.

As soon as it had started, the shooting stopped. Slowly, diners began to emerge from under tables and behind counters.

"Is everyone okay?" Sydney called out, moving around the room to check the frightened patrons for injuries. "Nadine? Call 911. Better tell them to send an ambulance, have them check some folks out just in case."

"What the hell was all that about?" Gage mused as he helped Sydney assist the shocked and startled breakfast crowd.

"A hit maybe? I don't know. Who would they target in a truck stop diner?"

"I think we found the answer to that question," Gage replied as they approached their table. His go-bag was still sitting on the bench seat where he'd left it, only now it was covered in shattered glass. One of the white diner napkins was stuck to it with the steak knife Nadine had brought out with his breakfast, a message sloppily scrawled on the napkin in ink: 'You saw too much Ranger.'

"So whoever chased us after you saw Johnny get killed was in here and they tried killing us?" Sydney asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "Oh, now that's scary."

"Looks like it." Gage ran his hands through his blond hair. Syd was right, it was scary, but he wasn't about to admit it to her.

"We need to call Walker right now," Sydney started for the pay phone but stopped when she saw that half of the handset was missing. "Shit," she hissed, "You've got to be kidding me!" The handset had been hit during the barrage of gunfire. Not only were they not calling Walker on that phone, but Loye was done pleading his case to Amy as well.

Nadine approached the two rangers.

"Oh, good, Nadine! Is there another –" Sydney began.

"Look, y'all look like really nice kids, you really do. But the manager is gonna just shit himself when he comes in here and sees this mess, so I think it's best that y'all just go. I packed y'all some sandwiches and some bottles of water, and here's two large coffees. It's all on me, y'all. And, obviously, don't worry about breakfast." Nadine shoved a large paper bag at Gage as she glanced nervously around the room.

"But don't you want us to stay here to talk to the police? We're Texas Rangers, Nadine, we'll need to give a report," Sydney explained.

"Oh, no, darlin'," Nadine began to twirl a strand of her red hair around a finger. "You don't need to do that. Y'all just need to go on, okay? Just go. And it's probably best if y'all go on out the back." Nadine gave Sydney a gentle nudge toward the back of the diner.

"We really should stay," Gage pressed. "We can't leave a number since both our cell phones are dead. It's not like we can go very far anyhow. I think the police will want to talk to us about what happened."

"Handsome, we just can't call the police and you need to get going. Just go. Now," Nadine ordered. "Go before they come back. Please."

As she spoke, she prodded them toward an exit door at the back of the diner. One of the busboys followed with their go-bags. With a final 'please,' Nadine opened the door and shooed them out, the busboy tossing their bags outside onto the dusty ground.

"What the hell?" Sydney asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and shock.

Gage just shook his head.

"So now what?"

Gage nodded toward the truck stop next door. "Let's head over there. We need to find a phone and see if there's a rental car agency anywhere around here."

"And your shoulder looks like it could use some attention," Sydney wrinkled her nose with concern. In all the excitement, the wound on Gage's shoulder had managed to start bleeding again.

* * *

He answered his cell phone on the third ring.

"We found him. He's got a girl with him."

"I heard you found him. I also heard you shot up the fucking diner. Want to tell me what that was about?"

"Nobody told us they were going to fire back."

"Of course they were going to fire back, you idiot! Who the hell told you to shoot out the goddamn window? One shot, one kill. Didn't they teach you that in sniper school or wherever the hell they sent you in the service?"

"I had a nice, clear shot, it's that damn glass they use."

"I don't want to hear any damned excuses. I called you to clean up a mess, and I need it cleaned up. Now you just created a bigger mess."

"Yeah, boss. Sorry."

"Where are they now?"

"They're heading to the truck stop. Want us to move in and take them out there?"

"No, no, not at the truck stop for fuck's sake. Not anywhere where the state boys are going to show up. Just let them go for now but keep an eye on them, you hear me? Keep an eye on them and don't let them out of your sight. But be smart about it. They're Texas goddamn Rangers. They'll know if you're tailing them and they'll throw you."

"Yeah, boss."

"Keep me posted. I'll tell you when to make the kill."

"Ten-four, boss."

* * *

"So who's Kevin?" Gage asked while Sydney worked on re-bandaging the wound on his shoulder. They were sitting in a corner of the drivers' lounge at the truck stop, partially obscured from view of anyone who would happen to walk by thanks to a large safe driving display. It really didn't matter; it was a quiet morning and except for a couple of other people, they pretty much had the lounge to themselves.

"Kevin?"

"Yeah. I saw his number on the speed dial list in your phone when I was trying to call Walker."

"Oh." Sydney shrugged nonchalantly. "He's just a friend, nobody special."

"Really?" Gage asked with a raised eyebrow. "C'mon, Syd. You can tell me. He must be somebody special if he made speed dial. What was he, a hot date?" Gage knew he was poking a very dangerous bear, and having had experience with dangerous bears, he knew just what kind of trouble he was getting into.

"No, he was not a hot date, either," Sydney replied sharply. "He's a friend. That's it. A friend."

"Oh." Then after a few seconds of silence, "Well, why don't you go out with him?"

"Because I don't have time to go out with him, and when I do have any time, I'm always with you." Sydney applied the last piece of tape to the gauze covering the wound on Gage's shoulder. "There. Done."

Gage felt his heart skip a little at her answer. Come to think of it, she was pretty much always with him, wasn't she? He pulled his button-down shirt on over his t-shirt, glad for the distraction that hid the blush that was creeping up from his collar.

"Now that you don't look like an attempted homicide victim, let's go see about a phone and a rental car," Sydney headed toward the disinterested-looking young kid sitting at the desk at the driver's lounge flipping idly through a comic book.

* * *

"Nah, we don't have any pay phones anymore since everyone carries a cell phone," the kid cracked his gum and tossed his hair out of his eyes.

"Is there anywhere I can charge a cell phone?" Sydney asked.

"I guess anywhere you can find an outlet," the kid replied with a gum-crack and hair toss.

"How about rental cars," Gage asked. "Is there anywhere around here where we might be able to rent a car to get back home?"

"We don't rent cars here," the kid replied. Gum. Crack. Hair. Toss. Sydney was getting very close to grabbing the kid by the hair and doing something about that annoying little issue.

"But is there anywhere close by that does? Maybe in a nearby town?" Sydney asked, her frustration coming dangerously close to showing.

"Um, if you have a phone with the internet on it, you could probably look it up,"

"Oh my God," Sydney whispered, her irritation level past its peak.

"How about we find someone else to ask," Gage suggested. "Is there anyone else we can ask?"

"The garage is over there." Crack. Toss. This time the kid added a slight jerk of his thumb in the general direction of the garage.

Sydney stomped away shaking her head. Gage rushed to catch up to her.

"So much for customer service," she remarked as they crossed a small breezeway into the service area. "Maybe they can fix a tire for us, though."

While Sydney asked the service manager about possibly getting their tire fixed, Gage kept a close eye on the parking lot.

"He says they don't work on anything smaller than trucks so he can't help us with the tire. But he did say there's a General Rental Car company about an hour away. He called them, but they don't have anything available until tomorrow morning. He gave me the number. I guess we can call in the morning. It doesn't sound… Gage, are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening, Syd. Just watching."

"Watching what?"

"That silver car in the parking lot. It was over by the drivers' lounge when we got here. Now it's on this side of the lot. There are two people sitting in it and they haven't gotten out the whole time we've been here."

"You think they might be following us?"

"I'd say so."

"So how do we shake them?"

Gage looked around the parking lot for a few minutes.

"Over there." He nodded toward the pump islands at the other end of the lot. Just beyond the islands was the entrance to the facility from the access road, and just beyond that were a few buildings.

"We'll go out the other side of the building and get over to the pump islands. There's a lot of truck traffic to block their view. We need to get across the access road and over to where those buildings are. Hopefully they won't see us. We'll hide out over there 'til dark and then try to move to somewhere a little more hidden. We're going to have to do a lot of moving at night. That's our safest and best bet, and we're going to need to stay off the main roads as much as possible."

"We should try to find a map," Sydney pointed out. She looked around the room. "Let me go talk to our friend again," she said, her dark eyes landing on the kid with the comic book at the drivers' lounge desk.

"Excuse me, do you have any maps?" she asked, already expecting the response she knew she was going to get.

The kid barely looked up from his comic book and gave his gum a good, loud crack that made Sydney cringe with annoyance.

"Most trucks are equipped with GPS these days," he replied, adding a hair toss for good measure.

"Well, I don't have a truck, and I certainly don't have a GPS. I'm old-fashioned and I really could use a map. Do you know where I might be able to pick one up in this place?" Sydney asked tartly.

Without bothering to look up, the kid turned the page in his book and then pointed to a rack of travel brochures and various maps standing at the very edge of the room, almost in the hallway.

Sydney gave a loud, irritated sigh. "Thank you," she said. "You know, it's really inspiring how much you love your job," she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, before heading over to the rack to see what she could find.

* * *

"Found one!" Sydney waved the map in the air as she approached her partner. "Are they still out there?"

"They're still there," Gage replied. "We just have to wait for the perfect moment. Then we'll make a run for the access road. You ready?"

"I'm ready." Sydney answered.

The pair waited for what seemed forever until a semi pulled between the building and the silver car, blocking the view from the car and pinning it in its parking space. It was the moment Gage had hoped for. He grabbed Sydney by the arm.

"Come on Syd. Go!"

They ran through the drivers' lounge, past the kid and his comic book and the rack of brochures where Sydney found the map she was looking for, down the hallway where the restrooms were located and through another part of the building that housed a convenience store. Dodging customers and displays, they ran out the door and toward the pump islands, being careful of vehicle traffic and trying to put as many trucks between them and the silver car that by now had been freed from its parking space. When they got to the edge of the truck stop's lot, traffic was too heavy to cross the access road, so they ran along the road until they found a break in traffic and were able to cross. The other side of the road dropped down a steep embankment into a small ravine farther away than they had planned to be from the buildings where Gage had expected to take cover. They slid down into the ravine in a shower of rocks and dust; the last thing Sydney saw when she looked over her shoulder up at the road was a glint of silver.

"I think they followed us," she announced breathlessly.

"I'm sure they did," Gage replied. "Stay low, and stay toward this side of the ravine. It'll be harder for them to see us."

Gage pushed Sydney ahead of him to make her less of a target. They crouched and ran along the rocky bottom of the ravine.

"Up ahead, Syd, looks like a drain pipe!" Gage called from behind her. "Looks like a good place to hide!"

"Looks like a good place for snakes, too!" Sydney called back.

"We don't have much choice, Syd." Gage glanced over his shoulder and didn't see the car or its occupants. "I don't see them and the sooner we get out of sight, the better."

They dove into the wide entrance of the pipe. Sydney held her breath while Gage shined the flashlight beam over the corrugated walls. The floor was littered with rocks and random trash, but there weren't any snakes; at least none that were willing to make an appearance. Gage walked to the opposite end of the pipe and looked out to see a fenced-in parking lot of one of the businesses that was visible from the truck stop.

"Might as well make ourselves comfortable," he said, dropping his go-bag on the pipe's floor and settling down, patting the floor beside him in an invitation for Sydney to join him. "We should be safe here."

* * *

The silver car cruised silently up and down the roads surrounding the truck stop.

"I don't get it," the driver growled, "they were just there, and then they were gone."

"Well, they couldn't have gotten far; they're on foot," his passenger reasoned.

"You think? What if they bummed a ride? Then they're good as gone and the Chief is going to have both our asses."

"I told you, I thought I saw them running up this road."

"Nobody runs in this heat, asshole. Nobody. How long have you lived here?"

"Maybe they were catching a ride or something, I don't know."

"We're going to have to tell the Chief, and you know as well as I do that –" his thoughts were cut off by the ringing of his partner's cell phone.

"Yeah, Chief…. No, no. We had an eye on them at the truck stop, but we lost them. No, a semi parked us in and in the few minutes we lost sight of them, they were gone. We're looking for them now, but it seems like they're just…. gone."

The man known as the Chief let out a string of expletives that weren't nearly enough to express his anger and frustration. More and more, he was beginning to realize that if he wanted a job done, he was going to need to do it himself.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I DO NOT OWN THE REFERENCED LYRICS TO "THE BALLAD OF CURTIS LOEW" BY LYNYRD SKYNYRD. Those are strictly the property of Allen Collins and the amazing Ronnie Van Zandt. I just borrowed (and ad libbed) a line from the song. **_

"Well, gentlemen, this is where they would have dropped off their prisoner, but I have to tell you, I wasn't the one they handed him off to. I don't know who that would have been. Honestly, this building doesn't get used much." Sheriff Wallace Pickford opened the door to the border patrol office and led Walker and Trivette inside.

"Otero County isn't on the border," Trivette noted, "Why do you have a border patrol office?"

"We aren't on the border, but DoñaAna County next door is. We've had some problems in the past with folks crossing the border over there and heading this way. It's not so much them crossing the border that's the problem. It's what they're bringing with them. Heroin. Coke. Meth is the big thing now. We put this office in a while ago to try to help our neighbors in the next county get a grip on all the drug smuggling. It's not easy, you know, trying to keep all that stuff out of the country. Once it gets here, it goes pretty much everywhere," the sheriff explained.

"I hear you," Walker replied as he took a look around the sparsely-furnished building. There didn't seem to be as much as a paperclip let alone anything else that seemed helpful.

"We thank you for your time, Sheriff," Walker extended a hand to the sheriff.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help. If I hear anything, I'll be sure to be in touch. I need to get back to the office, but if you gentlemen are hungry, there's a nice little diner down the street. It's not much, and they only serve breakfast and lunch, but the food's good. Let them know I sent you."

"Thanks a lot, sheriff," Trivette said and Walker nodded in agreement.

The sheriff got in his car and drove off, a cloud of dust rising behind him in the mid-morning heat, leaving Walker and Trivette standing in the small parking lot in front of the building.

"So what do you make of all this," Trivette asked.

"I'm not sure," Walker replied, "but something just doesn't seem right to me." He walked around the side of the building, looking for something, anything that might right the off feeling he had. As he came back to the parking lot, the metallic glint of something along the edge of the building's front walk caught his eye. Walker knelt to inspect it, picking it up with the tip of his pocket knife.

"What's that?" Trivette asked.

"A shell casing. There's another one over here."

Trivette pulled out his handkerchief and allowed Walker to deposit the casings into it. They both looked them over carefully.

"They're different," Trivette noted.

"They are." Using the hem of the handkerchief, Walker picked each casing up and looked them over carefully.

"For being outside, they're not full of dust and dirt and they're not weathered. They haven't been out here very long. Trivette, look around and see if you find any bullets lodged anywhere."

The two rangers scanned the outside of the building, looking for any trace of bullet holes.

"Look here, Walker!" Trivette pointed to an area of the window frame where the wood was splintered.

Walker looked closely at the splintered wood. "Look what we have here," he said, using his knife to pull a bullet from the damaged frame.

"I wonder what happened here." Trivette mused.

"I do too. But something tells me Sheriff Pickford won't be quite as agreeable if we ask for his help a second time," Walker remarked. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Captain Phillips has a top-notch forensics department in El Paso. Let's get those casings and this bullet over there and get them checked out. I'm going to call Alex, too, and see what she might know about the Otero County DA. We may need his help."

"They aren't going to issue search warrants for us being that this isn't our jurisdiction," Trivette cautioned.

"I know," Walker replied, "but that's not why I'm interested in him."

Trivette gave his partner a puzzled look.

Walker explained, "I have a feeling we're going to need all the friends we can get before this is over."

* * *

Gage looked over the map Sydney had picked up at the truck stop, trying to figure the best route for them to take. Beside him, Sydney sat with her arms folded on bent knees, and her head down on her arms. She'd fallen asleep about a half-hour ago and Gage didn't have the heart to wake her. It was probably going to be a long night of moving to their next location and the more rested they were, the better. Deciding that a little bit of sleep wouldn't hurt him, either, and feeling confident that they were safely hidden, he folded the map and stowed it in his bag, leaned back against the pipe's cold metal wall, and closed his eyes. As he waited for sleep, he thought about the first time he met Sydney.

He had just been assigned to go undercover on the El Leon case and was at the Company D headquarters in Weslaco waiting for his new partner to arrive so they could be briefed. He wasn't happy; he had just learned his new partner, Syd Cooke, was a rookie and this was a dangerous case, not the kind of case for someone just out of the gate.

"_We're short-handed," the captain explained, "there's nobody else I can send in with you."_

"_A rookie?" Gage protested. "You can't get anyone from any of the other offices?"_

"_Trust me on this one, Gage. Cooke was top of the class. Excellent scores all around. You're going to need to get close to El Leon and Cooke is just the person –" he was interrupted when a petite, dark-haired woman knocked on the door._

"_Ranger Cooke! We were just talking about your qualifications!"_

_Gage's mouth dropped. "You're Syd?"_

_The woman raised an eyebrow and looked at him quizzically. "Yeah. Syd. Short for Sydney. You have a problem?"_

"_I was just expecting…"_

_She cut him off. "Yeah, I know. You were expecting a man. Sorry to disappoint you."_

"_No, no. I'm not disappointed. Surprised, but not disappointed," Gage backpedaled, trying to dig himself out of the hole he knew he had just gotten himself into. _

"_So, Captain, what are we getting ourselves into?" she asked as she took a seat next to Gage and gave him a big smile. "How long am I going to have to put up with him?"_

She had surprised him, and in more ways than one. The El Leon case dragged on for nine months. They had spent most of it in a cramped and dirty apartment in the worst imaginable part of Brownsville, Texas. Gage thought she'd quit when she walked in to that filthy apartment and took a look around, but instead, she set to work trying to make it as livable as possible. They talked a lot, played countless hands of every card game they could think of and some they invented, and waited for their next orders. They posed as a drug dealing pimp and prostitute, and things got way out of hand when a john decided he wanted a couple hours with Sydney for real and didn't want to take no for an answer. They cheated death more than their fair share of times and at the end of the assignment, Gage realized that his captain had been right. Sydney knew her stuff. He was disappointed when he learned he was being sent to Dallas, but his disappointment was short-lived; Sydney ended up there shortly after on temporary transfer and Gage managed to talk Walker into keeping her full-time. Gage's entire career had been in law enforcement and he'd never had a partner as good as Sydney Cooke.

* * *

Gage woke about an hour later, the hushed sound of rain bringing him out of a light sleep. When he realized what it was he was hearing, he woke Sydney.

"Syd, wake up," Gage shook her gently.

Sydney woke and stretched a bit, grimacing at the ache in her back and legs.

"Syd, we're going to have to move soon." It was raining harder and water was beginning to trickle into the drainage pipe. Gage didn't have to look to know that the ravine they had slid into was filling with water and before long that water was going to start running into the pipe.

"Where are we going?" Sydney asked, moving to avoid a stream of water that was heading to where she was sitting.

"We can't stay to stay too close to here," Gage replied. "I was looking at the map. There's a road that runs parallel to the highway. Looks like it heads to a fairly large town a little north of here. They might have a rental car place or a bus station or something. We can probably get there in a couple of hours."

"In this rain?" Sydney didn't sound too enthusiastic about hiking around in the steady rain that was falling heavier by the minute.

"It's either that or drown when the water fills up that ravine and starts running through this drain pipe. We're prepared, though." Gage held up two plastic rain ponchos he'd found in their go-bags.

Sydney reluctantly took one of the ponchos, giving Gage an eye roll and a sigh. "I guess if I have to do this…"

"You'll probably want to," Gage remarked. "Rain has a way of chasing snakes out of their hiding places!"

Sydney had her poncho on and was ready to go before Gage could say another word.

* * *

The heavy rain turned into a torrential downpour that showed no signs of letting up and forced Sydney and Gage to take cover under a highway underpass. Their plastic rain ponchos had proved almost worthless and they were both soaked and cold. Sydney was miserable and Gage felt terrible for her. It was his fault, insisting they leave the shelter of the drain pipe to head out into the storm, but they really had no choice. With the way the rain was falling, the ravine was surely flooding and filling the pipe and they would have been forced out into the storm sooner or later. To make the situation even worse, both of them were very tense and jumpy, on the lookout for the silver car that had tailed them to the truck stop after the shootout in the diner earlier that morning.

Sydney sat down on the guard rail and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conserve her warmth. She couldn't believe that after the heat of the day she could be this cold. Gage noticed her teeth were chattering. He sat down on the guard rail next to her.

"Come here," he ordered.

"Wh-wh-what?" Sydney asked.

"Come here." Gage took her hand and pulled her over in front of him so he could wrap his arms around her. "You got used to the heat and this rain cooled everything off. Now it feels colder than what it actually is, and being soaked doesn't help matters any. That's why you're so cold." He pulled her back against him, feeling the tension in her body.

"Relax, Syd. I'm just trying to help keep you warm. I can't stand watching you stand there and shiver."

"How did you know that, about it feeling colder than it actually is?" Sydney asked, trying to make conversation to keep her mind off the fact that Gage was holding her really, really close and being in his arms felt really, really good.

"From when I served over in Iraq. It would be so hot in the desert during the day, but would easily cool off thirty degrees or more at night. The temperature drop was almost shocking until you got used to it, not that any of us ever really got used to it."

A bright flash of lightning startled them and they both jumped, Sydney's head cracking Gage's chin hard enough to make him bite his tongue.

"Ouch!" they both cried out simultaneously.

"I'm so sorry! The lightning!" Sydney turned her head to face Gage to apologize and found herself a mere breath away from his lips, his ice blue eyes locked on hers. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, how to move, and the cold that had numbed her entire body was replaced with such an intense heat that she began to wonder if maybe she had been struck by lightning.

Before either of them could draw closer or pull away, an old Dodge dually pulled to a stop next to them. The man inside reached over and opened the passenger door.

"Ain't no kind of day to be hitchin', y'all get in and get out of this weather!" he called over the sound of the storm.

"Thanks, but we're okay," Gage replied.

"You're going to be here an awful long time," the man replied. "These summer storms, we don't get 'em often, but when we do, they mean business. I'm just headed up to the next town, not much up there, but at least you can get some hot food and maybe a room for the night. Beats hanging out under a bridge waiting for things to dry out!"

Gage looked the guy over: mid to late fifties, graying hair under an old straw cowboy hat, a plaid snap-front shirt and jeans, rodeo buckle and boots. He looked like a guy who used to make his living riding the rodeo and then settled down maybe after an injury or after meeting his wife. He seemed harmless and nothing about him made Gage feel uneasy. Besides, he had Sydney to worry about. She was shivering almost uncontrollably and she needed to get into dry clothes and warm up.

"What do you say, Syd?" he whispered.

"Somewhere warm sounds so good," she replied.

"Okay," Gage agreed, and he and Sydney piled into the truck.

I hope this isn't a bad idea, Gage thought in a fleeting moment, but just as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, it was gone.

* * *

The man cranked the heater and the defroster in the old truck.

"Don't worry, little lady, we'll get you warmed up just as quick as we can. Name's Orville, just like the popcorn, and damn, wasn't it hot enough to pop corn right there on the stalk today!" He reached over and offered his hand to Gage.

"So what's your names, kids, and where are you headed?"

"I'm Selena," Sydney spoke, in a thick Hispanic accent, "and this is my fiancé, Curtis. We're headed to Las Vegas to get married."

Gage faked a coughing fit to keep from laughing. He had no idea where Sydney came up with these things, but her ability to think quickly and come up with a story was exactly why she was so great at working undercover.

"Nice to meet you Selena, and Curtis did you say?"

Sydney nodded.

"Play me a song ol' Curtis Loew, ol' Curtis Loew!" the man sang loudly and off-key. "You know that song, boy?"

"Oh, yeah, Skynyrd," Gage replied. "Everyone knows Skynyrd."

"Fuckin'-A they do. Vegas, you say. You kids have a haul ahead of you. Why the hell are you goin' so far? Why not just get the preacher to marry you off?"

"Daddy don't like Curtis so much," Sydney replied in that thick accent, "and I always wanted to get married in Las Vegas. A little white wedding chapel and Elvis. It's what I always dreamed of." She leaned against Gage's arm and looked up at him, batting her eyes. Gage had to look out the window to keep from laughing. Syd would have made a hell of an actress, he thought.

"That's some dream. What happened to your arm there, boy?" Orville leaned forward and gave Gage a hard look. Once again, his shoulder had started bleeding through the bandage Sydney had reapplied just that morning.

"Bar fight." Gage answered. "The other guy looks a lot worse."

"No wonder your daddy don't like him much," Orville said to Sydney. "Bar fightin' and all. That's some kind of shit right there."

"I was defending her honor," Gage said. "That ought to count for something."

"Oh it does, it does," Orville agreed. "Question is, how much you willing to defend her now?"

Gage gave the man a puzzled look.

"See, I don't believe you two are who you say you are. And if you're not, you two are going to make me a shitload of cash."

"What do you mean?" Gage asked.

Orville reached down between the seat and the door and pulled out a large hunting knife. He waved it toward Sydney, who was sitting on the bench seat between him and Gage.

"There's a whole lot of people looking for two Texas Rangers who happen to look a whole lot like you two. The Chief wants you dead, but I think you're worth some money first. I think I'll just take you right to him, collect my cash and let him do with you whatever he wants. So you just sit there and don't give me any shit and I won't have to kill your girl in front of you."

"Is that right?" Gage asked. The thought he had right before getting in the truck replayed itself in his mind and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

"Damn straight," Orville replied menacingly. "Though it would be a damn shame to kill her. Seems you're the one the Chief is really after. Maybe I can talk him into taking you for a few grand and letting me keep her. I think I could have a lot of fun with this hot little number."

While Orville was giving his speech, Sydney had slid her hand very slowly to the holster on her hip. She unsnapped it and gently and quietly eased her gun from its home.

"How about you just pull over and let us out right here," Sydney said, her accent suddenly gone.

"Oh no, little lady. No chance of…"

Sydney cut him off, this time with the gun pointed at his temple. "I think there's a very good chance of it. Now pull over. "

Orville waved the knife in Sydney's direction one more time. "Not when I stand to make a hell of a lot of money on your heads. South of the border and early retirement, here I come!"

Sydney glanced up the road and saw they were approaching an overpass. "Gage, what's the biggest complaint I have about your driving?" she asked.

"I don't know, I run into things every now and then?" he asked, confused.

"That's a good answer." Sydney gave Gage a quick look and nodded slightly to the overpass. He understood what she meant but wasn't sure what she planned to do. He braced himself in preparation, just in case.

As they approached the overpass, Sydney shifted slightly on the bench seat. They were just seconds from going underneath the bridge when Sydney slammed her foot down on top of Orville's foot on the gas pedal and grabbed for the steering wheel, yanking it hard to the right.

"What the hell?" Orville yelled, fighting for control of the truck. Sydney held fast to the wheel, though, and the truck veered off the side of the road into the side of the overpass.

For the second time that day, the sound of shattering glass filled the air, this time accompanied by the deafening sound of crunching and twisting metal. As Gage was thrown against the door on impact, he tried to grab hold of Sydney to protect her from the crash.

* * *

Gage thought there would be silence, but a constant blaring noise filled the air. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sound before he realized it was coming from inside the truck.

Syd. Where's Syd?

He felt a weight against his side. Sydney was slumped over against him, her long, dark hair spilled over her face in a tangled mess so he couldn't see her eyes. He raised his hand to brush her hair away to see if she was awake and alert, but fear stopped him. If she wasn't. If she was… He didn't want to think it.

A low moan came from her small, slumped form. Thank God! Gage thought. He brushed her hair from her face and felt a sticky wetness. Blood. Her blood.

"Syd! Syd, are you okay? Can you sit up? We have to get out of here!"

Sydney moaned again, but managed to sit up. An angry red gash had opened above her left eye where she'd hit the dash.

"We need to get out of here, Syd."

"Is he…" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Orville was hunched over onto the steering wheel, the weight of his body making the horn sound continuously. So that's where that sound was coming from, Gage thought. He reached over and felt along the man's neck for a pulse.

"No, he's still alive. We have to go. Now, Syd."

Gage tried the passenger door but it was jammed shut.

"We're going to have to go out the driver's side," he said, leaning over and grabbing Orville by the collar and pulling the unconscious man off the steering wheel. The horn silenced.

"Lean over there, Syd and see if his door opens."

Sydney leaned warily over the man's lap to try to door. It opened easily.

"Okay, you crawl out over him," Gage directed.

Sydney grimaced at the idea.

"Go on."

"What about you?" Sydney asked.

"We'll have to drag him out of the truck so I can get out. I'm starting to smell gas, so we've got to move quick. I don't know if this thing's going to blow or not."

The idea spurred Sydney into action. She slid over Orville's lap and outside the truck.

"Grab him under the arms, Syd. See if you can pull him out of the truck." From inside the truck, Gage tried turning the man sideways to help give Sydney some leverage. Together, they were able to ease the man out of the seat and onto the ground next to the truck. Gage tossed their bags out and then climbed out of the truck himself, helping Sydney to move the unconscious man a safe distance away from the crashed vehicle in case it caught fire.

"That was some quick thinking, Selena," Gage remarked, "but next time you want to crash a truck into a bridge, how about warning ol' Curtis here to put his seat belt on?" he asked with a wink as they sheltered from the rain under the overpass once again.

"Yeah, sure," Sydney replied in the thick accent she used to portray Selena.

"Let me take a look at where you hit your head," Gage brushed Sydney's hair out of her face to take a look at the cut on her forehead.

"It's not bad," he reassured her as he dug into one of their bags for the first aid kit. This time it was Gage bandaging Sydney's wound. "I just hope you don't have a concussion."

"I don't think I hit my head that hard," Sydney replied. "At least I don't remember hitting it that hard."

Gage didn't like the sound of her answer and made a mental note to keep a close eye on her. "If you start feeling sick or you start getting a really bad headache, say something, okay? Don't try pushing through it just because we're trying to get back home."

"Yeah, okay," Sydney answered.

"I mean it, Syd. I'm going to take care of you," Gage gave Sydney's hand a quick but firm squeeze.

"I thought I was taking care of you," Sydney replied with a smile.

"Whatever it takes, Syd. We're going to get out of this mess and get home. I promise."

* * *

Company E's Head of Forensics knocked tentatively on Captain Phillips' door.

"Come in," came the gruff response.

"We got the preliminary results, Captain."

"Thank you. What do you have?"

"The casing are definitely two calibers. Nine millimeter and twenty-two. The bullet was a nine millimeter, also. The nine millimeter casing looks like standard issue ranger ammunition, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. That ammo can be bought just about anywhere, same as the twenty-two."

"But it does tell us there was a good chance Syd and Gage were at the border patrol office and may have gotten off at least one shot, possibly two," Trivette mused.

"Maybe," the lab expert replied. "But without test firing the actual weapon to compare the bullets, we can't say for sure."

"I'm going to go with my gut here," Walker said. "My gut says Syd and Gage were there and there was some kind of altercation. The question is, what kind of altercation and where are they now?

**_Author's Note: Thank you for your continued support and for being loyal readers! I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Keep the reviews coming and let me know what you think of the story - who do you think is behind all the mayhem? And hang on, y'all, because it's about to get crazier before our favorite rangers even make it anywhere close to getting back home! _**


	5. Chapter 5

"Who is this 'chief' he kept talking about?" Sydney asked as they walked along. They were staying off the road and as out of sight as they could, heading toward the town Orville had told them was just ahead. Dusk was starting to settle in and a faint flicker of light could be seen in the distance.

"I don't know," Gage replied, "but I have a feeling he's the one who killed Johnny, and he's the one behind all the shooting at the diner this morning."

"And based on what Nadine said and how she shoved us out the door so fast, it sounds like the chief is pretty well-known in these parts," Sydney added.

"Yeah. That's what I got out of that, too. Question is, for what, and just what kind of an army does he have working for him?"

The pair walked in silence, both turning over in their minds the events of the day and trying to make sense of everything until they reached town. Orville had been right, there wasn't much there. A gas station stood on one side of the street, a sign in the window boasting lowest prices for cigarettes and three pumps standing sentinel at the lone pump island. Two of the pumps offered unleaded and diesel fuel, while the third claimed to offer leaded gasoline underneath an angrily handwritten, faded poster board sign that proclaimed "No leded gas. Thank u DC Crooks." A few dusty trucks sat waiting for their owners in the parking lot of the no-name bar across the street. Neon signs buzzed on and off in the windows, advertising Coors Light and Budweiser. The remnants of a small corner store stood next to the bar, its windows boarded up, the only remains of its past life was a faded "Save Green Stamps" sign hanging from a pole.

"Wow, talk about lonely," Sydney thought out loud.

"And depressing," Gage added. "This is what happens when the highway comes to town."

Further into the town was a Mexican café that appeared closed for the night, an adult book store, and a convenience store that, besides the bar, looked to be the only thriving business in town – if a couple of cars and few kids messing around on skateboards in the parking lot translated to thriving. The most welcome sight was an old motor lodge, the Golden Eagle Motor-In, its half-lit sign proudly proclaiming TV – Phone – Pool – AC and underneath, a flashing 'vacancy' in orange-red neon. The motel had definitely seen better days and was probably a busy stop for travelers before the highway bypassed the now-forgotten town.

"It's got to be more comfortable than the car or the drainpipe," Gage nodded toward the motel.

"You hope," Sydney replied.

"At any rate, it'll be a chance to call Walker, let him know what's going on, maybe see about getting a rental car somewhere and finally get back on the road and get out of this place."

"True," Sydney agreed. "I'm ready to get back to Dallas."

* * *

"So what do we do now?" James Trivette asked as he and Walker left the Company E headquarters.

Before Walker could answer, his cell phone rang. He answered and nodded as he listened. The caller gave him an address, which he repeated so Trivette could make note of it, then Walker thanked the caller and canceled the call.

"What was that about?" Trivette asked.

"New Mexico State Highway Patrol. They found Syd and Gage's car."

"What about Syd and Gage?" Trivette was hopeful.

Walker shook his head as the two men climbed into the Dodge Ram and headed back to New Mexico, finding the car exactly where the highway patrol officer had directed.

Trivette took a look around at the abandoned service station and its bleak surroundings.

"How do you think they ended up here?" he mused. "It's not like either of them to get lost."

"Good question," Walker replied as he looked around the car. He pointed out the shattered passenger-side mirror and the bullet hole in the trunk. "I think this explains the shell casings in the border patrol office parking lot."

Trivette opened the driver's side door. "Walker. You need to see this."

Walker came around the side of the car and looked in to see what Trivette had found. There was blood on the passenger seat. Not a lot of blood, but enough to be of concern.

"One of them is hurt, probably shot. Based on where the blood is on the seat, it's Gage." Walker surmised.

Trivette looked at his partner quizzically.

Walker explained. "If Gage was sitting in that seat, that blood stain is right about where his shoulder would be."

Trivette nodded. "So Sydney was driving. Maybe they were being chased and she got disoriented? Ended up here?"

Walker continued around the car, noticing the flat spare tire. "They had a flat tire and the spare went flat, too, possibly in the shoot-out. Maybe she turned off the road intentionally to get away from them. Whatever the reason, they aren't here now. Their go-bags are gone, too, so they must have went for help," he paused to look around. "I wonder where. Let's see what else is around here."

* * *

There was nothing else on the dusty road and nowhere their friends could have gone for help. Walker turned on the first side road he came to and it led them back to the highway, right by the same truck stop and diner Sydney and Gage had been to earlier that morning. With evening setting in and their stomachs and the truck starting to run on empty, the men decided a stop for food and fuel would be a good idea before getting back on the road.

A perky blond waitress greeted them as they walked in to the diner, "Good evening gentlemen! Have a seat anywhere. Anywhere but that booth with the boarded-up window. Had some excitement here this morning and there may still be some broken glass over there."

Walker and Trivette chose a booth near the door and the waitress brought them menus. Noticing their badges, she commented, "Texas Rangers, huh? Must be the day for y'all to come visit New Mexico. We had a couple of you in here this morning. Least that's what Nadine told me earlier. I didn't see them myself."

"Texas Rangers?" Walker echoed.

"Yes,sir. Two of them," the peppy blond repeated. "A guy and a girl. Nadine sure was goin' on about that guy. Said he was the most beautiful man she ever laid eyes on. Sorry, I don't mean any disrespect. I know Nadine didn't either. She just really appreciates a good-lookin' man. Can I get y'all something to drink?"

The men ordered dinners and before the blond walked away, Walker stopped her. "This Nadine? Is she around? I was wondering if she could describe the two rangers that were here."

"Oh, no. She works the breakfast shift. But I can tell you what the guy looked like because she told me all about him. Blond hair and these crazy intense blue eyes. She didn't say much about the girl other than she was just little and skinny and how guys like him always seem to go for girls like that. Kind of one of her pet peeves. You know, if you want to talk to her, we can probably call her."

"No, that's okay. Thanks." Walker replied. When the waitress left, he turned to Trivette. "They were here. It was this morning, but they were here. If they're traveling on foot, they couldn't have gotten too far. We'll check over at the truck stop after we eat," he pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to check in with Alex, too, and let her know what we found out."

With their stomachs full and a good lead on their friends, it was time to fill the Dodge. Walker pulled up to the pump island at the truck stop and fueled up while Trivette went in to ask if anyone recalled seeing Sydney and Gage earlier that day. He was just about to go back out to tell Walker nobody remembered them when something on the television in the drivers' lounge caught his attention.

It was a breaking news bulletin with a composite sketch of Sydney.

* * *

The woman working the desk at the Golden Eagle looked surprised to see Sydney when she walked in. Gage chose to wait outside, figuring that the blood on his shirt from his shoulder wouldn't make the best impression and would probably lead to a lot of unwanted questions.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking Sydney up and down through a fringe of heavily-mascaraed eyelashes.

"Do you have any rooms?"

"We don't rent by the hour."

"Well, that's just a shame, isn't it?" Sydney replied snarkily. "I meant for the whole night," Sydney felt her annoyance level being tested again.

"Oh." The woman looked around Sydney toward the empty parking lot. "No car?"

"We broke down. A friend is coming to pick us up in the morning."

"Oh." The woman eyed Sydney suspiciously. "What happened to your forehead?"

"Dermatologist." Sydney replied, getting even more annoyed. "Can I get that room, please? Two, actually, if you have them."

"Can't do two," the woman replied. "One? Yes. Two? Sorry. Don't have them available. Maybe if you would have made a reservation."

Sydney found that hard to believe. The parking lot outside was empty. But one room was better than nothing, considering that they'd slept in a car and a drainage pipe.

"I guess one will have to work then."

The woman handed Sydney a brochure-sized form to fill out and began to tick off a list of rules, "We don't allow smoking, drinking, drugs, or pets, and we'd prefer you don't eat in the rooms. It draws rats. Check out time is ten in the morning, and you get one towel and one washcloth per person. If you need more, there's a charge. Keep it down, okay? If we get any complaints, you're outta here."

Sydney handed back the form.

"That's sixty for the night, tax is included."

Sydney handed her three twenty dollar bills. The woman sniffed. "We prefer charge cards, you know, in case we have to collect for damages."

"You don't take cash?" Sydney asked suspiciously.

"Well, we do, but we prefer…" the woman began but stopped when she noticed Sydney's raised eyebrow and her fingernails tapping on the three twenties fanned out on the counter.

"This will be fine," the woman replied, handing Sydney a room key. "If you need anything, just dial zero on your room phone."

* * *

Gage opened the door to room 107, the stale air and smell of old cigarette smoke nearly knocking both him and Sydney over.

"Wow, when was the last time anyone used this room?" he asked, coughing.

"When was the last time they decorated?" Sydney asked in reply after fumbling for the light switch. The dim light revealed orange shag carpeting and one bed covered in a stained gold bedspread. A vinyl chair and round table sat in the corner and an old console TV sat next to a tall dresser. On the nightstand next to the bed stood a tall lamp shaped like a peacock and a push-button phone. Heavy gold floral curtains hung over the window by the door. A partition separated the room from the bathroom, and Sydney dreaded what she might find there.

"Dear Lord," Sydney whispered as she followed Gage into the room.

Gage turned to look at her. "Remind you of anything?" he asked.

Sydney looked around the dimly-lit room one more time. It suddenly hit her. "El Leon. That nasty apartment!"

"Who would have thought there would be two places in the world so disgusting?" Gage asked.

"I'll tell you this much, Gage, I'm sleeping with my gun in case the roaches try to carry me off in the middle of the night!" The pair laughed. It felt good to laugh after the last two days.

"Let me take a look at that shoulder again, Gage. And see if you can get Walker on the phone." Sydney dragged the chair over to the nightstand so she'd have as much light as possible to work with while Gage dialed Walker's cell phone.

"His phone's going right to voicemail."

"Try Alex. She should be home." Sydney undid the bandage from Gage's shoulder. "Oh, Gage, your shoulder is a mess. We really need to get a doctor to look at this."

"Maybe if we get a rental car in the morning we can take care of it before we head home. Truthfully, Syd, I don't want to spend any more time around here than absolutely necessary. Just do what you've been doing and we'll hope for the best."

Sydney shook her head, but cleaned the wound. It should have started to show some signs of healing by now, but the graze had been deep and it didn't seem to want to stop bleeding. Sydney packed the wound with a bit of gauze this time and wrapped it a bit tighter, hoping that the pressure would help to quell the flow of blood.

* * *

Alex picked up the phone on the second ring.

"Alex! Its Gage and Syd!"

"_Oh, thank goodness! We've been worried sick about you two! Walker and Trivette have been looking for you. They found your car and said one of you is hurt? Are you okay? Where are you?"_

"We're okay. I got grazed by a bullet when we dropped off Johnny Leftall. They shot him and took a shot at me. Now we're stranded in some little town in New Mexico. It's been a hell of a trip getting here. We've been trying to get in touch with Walker to tell him, but our phones are dead, and now that we've finally found a phone, his keeps going to voicemail."

"_Walker and Trivette went to El Paso. Company E called wanting to know when you were going to bring Johnny in and that's when they figured out that the call to take him to New Mexico was a set up."_

"So the Feds weren't involved?"

"_No, they weren't. Where are you in New Mexico? I'll let Walker know. Thank God you're okay! How's Syd? Is she okay?"_

"Syd's fine. She's bandaging up my shoulder right now. She's a good nurse. We're at the Golden Eagle Motor-In in a tiny little place –" Gage looked to Sydney for help with the town's name.

Sundown, Sydney mouthed.

"Sundown, New Mexico. We don't have a car, cell phone service is next to nothing, but we're going to try rent a car and get home tomorrow."

"_Thank goodness. I'll let Walker know. Be careful you two!" _

"And Alex, tell Walker we're both really sorry. We had no idea."

"_Gage, none of us did."_

* * *

"I'm starving," Sydney announced, much to Gage's amusement.

"And you comment on how much I eat," Gage teased.

"It's been a long time since those sandwiches Nadine packed for us. Those were some good sandwiches, too. I guess it's a safe bet the diner won't deliver, huh." Sydney sighed.

"Probably not. I doubt the bar down the street delivers."

"I doubt the bar down the street has a safe rating from the department of health!"

Gage opened the drawer on the nightstand. The requisite Gideon's Bible wasn't even there, let alone any kind of takeout menus.

"I'm pretty sure we're not getting any takeout around here," he informed Sydney.

"Oh, that's right. The woman at the front desk said we're not supposed to eat in the room because it draws rats," Sydney remembered.

"Rats. Wonderful. This place is more and more like our El Leon apartment every second." Gage cringed at the memory.

"There may be a vending machine somewhere. I'll go get us some snacks." Sydney unloaded all the change in her wallet and collected a handful from Gage. "I'll be right back."

While Gage waited, he flipped on the television and chased through the channels until he found one that looked like a local station. He plugged their cell phones in to charge and then went to rinse the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink. He tossed his shirt over the shower curtain rod to dry, turned up the fan on the air conditioning unit in the window above the toilet to help it along, and went back out to the room to wait for Syd. What he saw on TV nearly made him choke.

A composite sketch of Sydney flashed on the screen with the words armed and dangerous underneath. Gage fumbled with the volume on the old console set.

"_Again, in breaking news, authorities are searching for the woman in this picture. She's wanted for the attempted murder of a southeastern New Mexico man after attempting to crash his vehicle into a highway underpass. She is traveling with a companion, a blond man with a wound on his left arm. She may be bilingual, both have been known to use aliases, and she is considered armed and dangerous. If you see her, do not approach, but contact your local authorities immediately. We will update you with more on our ten o'clock news. We now return to regular programming."_

"Oh, shit," Gage whispered. He had been watching the newscast so intently that he hadn't heard Sydney return to the room.

"I found some chips, a couple of candy bars, and - what the hell? That's me! What is that? Gage! What are they talking about?" Sydney dumped the handful of snacks on the top of the television and bent down to look at the screen as if looking closer would make it all seem clearer.

"So Orville called the police and said I tried to kill him!"

"No," Gage replied. "Orville called the chief. I'm willing to bet that's who's behind this, and if that's the case, we've got problems." Gage went to the window, pulled the edge of the curtain away from the wall, and scanned the darkened parking lot.

"Did anyone see you out there, Syd?" Gage asked.

"No. We're the only ones here as far as I can tell."

"Let's hope the lady at the front desk isn't watching television. We have to get ready to move, and we're going to have to travel light." Gage picked up their go-bags and started sorting through his, picking out what was necessary and what he could do without. Sydney started doing the same with hers.

"We'll need to make do with one bag," Gage said, as he organized everything they had finally deemed as necessary plus the snacks Sydney had brought back from the vending machine in Sydney's go-bag as it was the smaller of the two.

Just as he finished zipping the bag closed, they heard yelling and banging from outside. Gage went to the door and eased it open a crack to look. At the far end of the row of rooms, two men were kicking in one of the room doors. The silver car sat in the parking lot.

"Shit!" he hissed.

"What?"

"Grab the phones," Gage ordered as he grabbed the bag off the bed, "come on, follow me."

"What?" Sydney repeated.

"Remember El Leon?"

On their last night in the apartment in Brownsville, just before they broke the El Leon case, they had to escape. The only way out was through the tiny bathroom window and down a broken fire escape. Sydney recalled that night as Gage led the way to the dingy motel bathroom and went to work on knocking the rattling old air conditioning unit out of its home. Sydney winced as it slammed against the outside of the building when it fell backwards out of the window, dangling by the power cord that tethered it to the outlet near the ceiling. The cord strained and stretched and finally gave way from the weight of the heavy machine and it crashed to the ground outside.

"Come on," Gage commanded as he grabbed his still-wet shirt off of the shower curtain rod and pulled it on. He picked Sydney up and lifted her through the window.

"It's okay," she told him as she looked around. "There's a housekeeping cart just under the window. It'll be a soft landing." Sydney dropped down and out of sight through the open window.

Gage balanced himself precariously on top of the toilet tank and tossed Sydney's go-bag out to her. The window was small, just wide enough to fit the air conditioning unit, but barely big enough for him to fit his athletic frame. He managed to squeeze his shoulders through and perch on the edge of the window sill just as he heard the door of the room kick open. Hoping he'd land in the housekeeping cart and he wouldn't fall on Sydney in the process, he let himself somersault backwards, the split-second drop feeling like forever, just like it did back when he was in training in the service in the moments in free-fall from the plane before the parachute snapped open.

Gage hit the soft center of the housekeeping cart full of laundry and before he could catch his breath and get his bearings, Sydney threw a sheet over him, covering him completely. From inside the room, they heard a cacophony of banging and shouting as the two occupants of the silver car tore the room apart. The voices grew louder as they entered the bathroom and found their escape route. As the yelling continued, the cart began to move and Gage realized they were being pushed away from the room. He fought the urge to look, to see who was moving the cart, until he heard two women speaking and then heard the familiar and steady swishing and rocking noise of a washing machine and felt the air grow more humid. They were outside the motel's laundry room.

Gage reached for Sydney and tapped her on the shoulder. Instinctively, she slid toward him.

"We need to get out of here," he whispered as quietly as he could in her ear.

"I know."

They listened for a moment and heard nothing.

"You go first," Gage whispered again. "I'll cover you."

Sydney eased out from under the sheet and cautiously looked around. "We're good," she whispered to Gage. "Let's get out of here."

The pair disappeared under the cover of night; away from the town, away from the highway, and farther away from Dallas.

* * *

Will Aquilino watched the breaking news segment and laughed.

"I gotta tell you, Chief, that was one of your best ideas yet."

The man they called Chief snorted. "I have lots of them. That's why I'm the chief."

"So what are we going to do about these two other rangers sniffing around, and how'd they find the car?"

"I figured I'd toss 'em a bone. I made an anonymous call to the state boys, said I was hiking over there around the old Exxon, bird-watching, some stupid-ass thing they'd believe from some animal lover. They called highway patrol and highway patrol called the rangers."

"That's nice, but the last thing we need are two more fucking rangers running around here. This isn't even their jurisdiction you know."

"I know that, Will." The man gave him a look that would have frozen lava. "Remember, I'm the chief. I know what I'm doing. I already have a tail on these new guys because they're going to smoke out the first two."

"Do you think these new guys figured anything out at the border patrol office?" Will asked.

"Nah. We scrubbed it clean. The place looked deserted. It's all under control."

"So what happens next?" Will asked

"We sit. We wait. Pretty soon we'll have all four rangers together."

"And then?"

The man known only as The Chief smiled an icy, oily grin. He raised his hand, extending his forefinger and holding up his thumb like a gun.

"Pow," he chuckled. "Pow. Pow. Pow."


	6. Chapter 6

Trivette told Walker what he saw on the TV in the truck stop's drivers' lounge.

"I don't get it, man. That doesn't even sound like Sydney," he said after he filled Walker in on the details.

"No, it doesn't. My guess is she and Gage got into a bind and it was self-defense. Maybe they ran into whoever it was they got into that shoot-out with at the border patrol office," Walker reasoned.

"Do you think they know?" Trivette asked, even though he was pretty sure of the answer.

"No. I don't. Which puts them in even more danger." Walker punched up Alex on the speed dial on his cell phone and waited for her to answer.

"Alex."

"_Hi, sweetheart! I heard from Syd and Gage! They're safe! They're in a little town in New Mexico called Sundown at the Golden Eagle Motor-In. You won't believe this, but Gage said they dropped Johnny Leftall off and somebody shot him. Gage said he was grazed in all the action, but he's okay and the important thing is they are safe and they're trying to get back to Dallas tomorrow."_

"No, they're not safe," Walker replied. He filled Alex in on what Trivette saw on television.

"_Oh my God! Walker, they didn't say anything about that! I bet they don't even know! I need to try to reach them. I'll call you right back. Stay where you are so you don't lose signal. Gage says cell phone service there is awful."_

Alex called back twenty minutes later.

"_Walker, they're gone. Their room is trashed and they're gone! I got the motel's number from information and asked for their room. Nobody answered, so I called the front desk and asked them to go to the room and check on them. I said it was an emergency. The desk attendant came back and said the room was torn up and nobody was there! Dear Lord, I hope they're okay." _

"Alex, where did you say they were staying?"

"_The Golden Eagle Motor-In, in Sundown." _

"We're going to go find them," Walker replied. "Tomorrow, I want you to talk to Dan Johnson in IT. Have him find the number Johnny Leftall called when he called his attorney. See if he can trace that number. I'll talk to you as soon as we find something out."

* * *

"It's almost daylight," Gage observed.

"Yeah," Sydney yawned. They'd been walking nearly all night and she was exhausted.

"We need to find a place to hide out for the day," Gage said. "Keep your eyes open."

"I'm trying," Sydney replied.

After a few minutes of silence, Gage looked at his watch. "Aw, damn!" he exclaimed.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Saturday. Today's Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. At least I think it is." After all the chaos of the last few days, Sydney wasn't even sure herself.

Gage shook his head. "Looks like I blew that one."

"Blew what?" Sydney asked.

"I was supposed to be somebody's plus-one for a wedding today, and it doesn't look like I'm going to make it. I'm not even going to be able to call, so it's going to look like I stood her up, too," Gage replied remorsefully.

"Whose?" Sydney asked, trying to sound casual.

"Whose wedding? I'm not sure. A friend of a friend."

"No, whose plus-one were you?"

"Oh. Heather's."

"Heather. The cheerleader with the pom-poms and the _pom-poms_?" Sydney made an exaggerated motion towards her breasts.

"You're jealous!" Gage teased.

"No more jealous than you when you found Kevin's number on my phone," Sydney replied defensively.

"You never did tell me what was up with that."

"I told you," Sydney huffed. "I told you he's just a friend."

"Well, how did you meet him, then?" Gage asked.

"I knew him from school. He looked me up, said he was going to be in Dallas for work for a while and wanted to know if we could get together for dinner or drinks while he was in town. There's nothing wrong with dinner, Gage. A girl has to eat."

"And did you meet him?" Gage asked, the question coming out more suspiciously than he intended.

"No. I've been busy. He's been busy. We just haven't had time."

"But you're going to meet him, right?" Gage pressed, all at once thankful that Sydney hadn't had dinner with Kevin and hopeful that she'd say she decided to tell him no if he called her.

"You were going to a wedding today with a Dallas Mavericks cheerleader, and you're interrogating me about whether or not I might have dinner with an old friend from school? Jesus, Gage! Now who's jealous?" Sydney's voice rose with anger.

"I don't understand your problem with Heather," Gage stated after a few minutes of silence.

"She's a cheerleader. Cheerleaders have always irritated me. I don't understand your problem with Kevin. You've never even met him."

"He's on your speed dial. Hell, Syd, I'm not on your speed dial."

"Gage, that's because I am always with you. I don't need to call you when you're right beside me." Sydney gave him a grin and a light-hearted punch on the arm.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Gage smiled back at her and Sydney felt her heart flutter for a second.

"You guess? You guess? I'm always right!" Sydney joked.

The pair walked in silence for a long while, enjoying the comfortable quiet between them. Both of them were well aware of how they could come close to the edge of an argument like they just did and end up joking with each other. They did it all the time.

Gage was the first to break the silence. "So, that whole little white wedding chapel and Elvis thing. Is that really your dream wedding?"

Sydney snorted in response.

"No, really, Syd, I want to know!"

"I don't know," Sydney replied. "Honestly, I never really thought much about what kind of wedding I want. Why do you want to know?"

Gage flashed her that boyish grin and Sydney felt her heart flutter again. "I was thinking if that was the kind of wedding you wanted, then maybe you just might be the girl of my dreams," he teased. "You know, Elvis and all."

"Girl of your dreams! Shut up!" Sydney teased back.

"You never thought about your wedding?" Gage asked.

"No, never."

"Even after all those bouquets you caught?

"Oh, yeah. I was so thrilled to catch all those bouquets." Sydney answered sarcastically. "All those damn things did was tell me the kind of wedding I didn't want."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I don't want a big, huge, crazy wedding like Alex and Walker's. I think a wedding should be very small and intimate, just with the two people getting married and maybe their very closest friends and family, if that. I don't know," Sydney sounded thoughtful. Alex and Walker's wedding had been beautiful, but she remembered all the stress Alex had been under with planning and trying to make sure everything went perfectly. It didn't help that Gage and the guys were so nonchalant about getting their tuxes. Their laid-back attitudes drove Sydney crazy and she wasn't the one getting married.

"Maybe Las Vegas is the way to go," she added.

Sydney missed the smile that crossed Gage's face. "And Elvis?" he asked.

"Maybe not that much Las Vegas. I'll tell you this," she continued. "I may not have thought about my wedding, but I've always thought about the person I'd want to marry."

"Who's that?" Gage tried to keep his voice even, hiding any trace of interest.

"Somebody good and honest. Somebody who is strong and makes me feel safe. Somebody who isn't put off or intimidated by who I am or what I do. Somebody who is serious and silly and who makes me feel so amazingly loved and beautiful." Somebody like you, Sydney's heart shouted. "I guess that person is out there," she said wistfully.

"Of course he is," Gage answered, suddenly picking up the pace to walk a few steps ahead of Sydney. What she said had grabbed his attention and shaken him to the point that sudden tears stung his eyes, surprising him, and he didn't want her to notice.

* * *

The first rays of sunlight were starting to break over the eastern horizon when Sydney saw it, the outline of a building just ahead of them in the gray morning light. At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her; she was certainly tired enough to see things, but as they got closer, the lone building's outline became clearer.

"Gage, do you see that?" Sydney asked. "There's a building up ahead."

"I see that. It looks abandoned. It might be a good place to hide out for the day," Gage replied.

As they got closer, they saw the building was abandoned, and barely standing. The old, weathered wooden building was nothing more than an old shack, its wooden board walls bleached by the sun and standing at a definite angle thanks to many years of wind. Part of a rail fence stood in front of it, its rails just as old and weathered and fragile-looking.

"Wonder what this used to be?" Sydney mused.

"Not sure. Maybe what's left of an old outpost or somebody's homestead."

"It's probably full of snakes. Or scorpions. Or whatever they have crawling around out here," Sydney cringed at the thought.

Gage picked up a piece of old fence rail and dug the flashlight out of the pocket on Sydney's go-bag. "I'll go see how bad it is." He disappeared inside the ramshackle old building and Sydney could hear him thumping on the floor and the walls with the piece of railing.

Moments later, he appeared back in the doorway. "It's pretty dusty in here, but there's no wildlife. Looks like we're home for the day."

Gage was right, the old building was dusty and dirty inside but didn't seem to be home to anything more than a couple of spiders that were quickly taken care of. Sydney was glad she'd brought the blanket she kept in the car and spread it out on the wooden floor.

"It's not the most comfortable place, but it'll work," she said, as she rooted through the go-bag for the snacks she had bought from the vending machine at the motel. "Breakfast?" she asked, offering Gage a choice of the small bags she found.

Gage took a bag of cookies and the pair split a bottle of water. He brushed his thumb gently over the bandage on Sydney's forehead.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"It's okay," Sydney replied. "I'm pretty sure I don't have a concussion if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm still going to worry," Gage said. "You took a pretty hard hit."

"I should probably take a look at your shoulder again," Sydney said, pulling the first aid kit out of the bag while Gage unbuttoned his shirt to allow her access. She was surprised to find the bleeding had slowed, so she re-wrapped the wound.

"You're going to have another scar, you know," Sydney traced her fingers over one of the silvery-white lines that spider-webbed its way across Gage's chest, the result of a bear attack at Walker's bachelor party fishing trip at Lake Ebby. Her touch felt like an electric shock and Gage pushed his clenched fists against his thighs to keep from grabbing her and throwing her onto the floor and letting nature take its course.

"What's another scar?" Gage said when he could breathe again.

"They make for interesting stories," Sydney replied, taken aback when she realized how intently Gage was watching her. He brushed his fingertips over her forehead again.

"I'm fine," Sydney said, "Not even a headache, not the tiniest bit." She was flustered. Gage's ice blue eyes were locked on hers and she found herself torn between edging away from him and wanting to move closer.

Gage brushed his fingertips through the inky silk of Sydney's long, dark hair, bringing his hand to rest at the back of her neck. Before Sydney could think, he pulled her to him, his lips finding hers, kissing her. His kiss was soft and gentle and tentative at first, almost as if he was asking permission. When she didn't move away, Gage slid his arm around Sydney's waist and pulled her close to him, kissing her harder until her lips parted, allowing his tongue entry to tease and taste her.

Deep moans and soft sighs mixed. Gage stumbled slightly backwards, pulling Sydney with him until they were both tangled in an embrace on the blanket Sydney had spread on the dusty floor. Gage broke the kiss and their embrace long enough to arrange the go-bag to serve as a makeshift pillow and then pulled Sydney down on top of him, one hand buried in her hair to guide her lips back to his and the other hand sliding under the back of her shirt, tracing her curves and rubbing circles over the warm, velvety smoothness of her lower back.

Sydney allowed herself to melt into Gage's arms, returning each kiss with as much heat and passion as he offered her. She teased kisses along his jaw and his neck while her hands ran slowly and sensually over the hard muscles of his chest and arms. Another hardness pressed against her lower stomach, sending an intense heat through her core and fireworks through her brain until her entire body sizzled with an electricity so powerful that she imagined sparks flying like Fourth of July sparklers every time she and Gage touched.

"God, oh God, Syd," Gage whispered between kisses. He wrapped an arm around her tighter and then ran a hand down her back, dipping his fingertips inside the waistband at the back of her jeans.

Thunder and lightning exploded in Sydney's head and she pulled away suddenly, rolling off of Gage and sitting up on the blanket, clutching her knees to her chest. Gage looked stunned as he was suddenly slammed back to reality.

"Gage, we can't. We can't." Sydney said firmly. She straightened her clothes and tried to catch her breath, all the while trying to silence the screaming from her heart and body, 'What the hell are you doing? Isn't this all you ever wanted?'

"We can, Syd, we just did," Gage protested, sitting up and running a hand down Sydney's arm. He noticed the goosebumps that rose up on her skin in response to his touch.

"No, we can't. We shouldn't. We work together, Gage."

"What's that have to do with anything?" Gage breathed, leaning toward her.

Sydney ducked away from him. "Gage, there are rules. We can't." She bit her lower lip and slid toward the edge of the blanket, just out of Gage's reach.

Gage took a deep breath and ran his hands through his blond hair. "Yeah. I guess you're probably right. I'm sorry, Syd. I don't know what I was thinking." He lay down on the blanket. "We ought to get some sleep."

"I guess so," Sydney replied, a hint of sadness in her voice. What was I thinking? she asked herself over and over. She was sure she did the right thing, but it certainly didn't feel right now, at least not nearly as right as kissing Gage felt. She curled up on the blanket next to him. He already had his eyes closed.

"I wasn't rejecting you, Gage. Just so you know," she whispered. He didn't reply.

* * *

The woman at the desk at the Golden Eagle Motor-In recognized the picture Walker showed her.

"Yeah, I remember her. She said they broke down on the highway and friends were coming to pick them up."

"We're here to pick them up," Walker said. "Can you tell me what room they're in? I've been trying to call, but I think their cell phones are dead."

"I can tell you," the woman said, fluttering her heavily-mascaraed eyelashes at Walker until she noticed his wedding ring, "but they're not there. They flew the coop, probably when that gal figured out the cops were onto her. Trashed the room, too. Only paid me in cash. We like to get a credit card in case of room damages, but she only paid cash and now I'm out a ton of money for the room."

Walker pressed his lips together as he processed what the desk clerk said. Finally, he pulled his own badge out of his pocket. Being out of his jurisdiction, he wasn't wearing it and had only planned on using it in the direst of circumstances, but he thought maybe it might get him what he needed.

"Ma'am, I'm a Texas Ranger, and I'm looking for a couple of friends. If you could point me to that room and open the door, you'd be doing me a really big favor."

The woman looked at the badge and looked again at Walker. Wedding ring or not, he was certainly handsome, she thought, and a favor for a handsome man sometimes had its ways of paying itself back.

"Well, now, why didn't you say so?" She pulled a key off the rack behind her and led the way to room. She wasn't disappointed when Trivette joined them. She was quick to notice he wasn't wearing a ring.

"Now look at this," she pointed out the kicked-in door. As they entered the room, she pointed out other damages: the overturned dresser, the broken TV screen, the upended table and chairs, the shredded mattress, the AC unit that was knocked out of the bathroom window.

From what Walker could tell, most of the damages could easily be fixed by a long-overdue room renovation. He looked around the room for smaller details while the desk clerk prattled on about the damages and how they'd be paid for.

"Trivette, isn't this one of their go-bags?" Walker poked at a black duffel bag on the floor on the other side of the bed with the toe of his boot.

"That looks like Gage's bag," Trivette noted.

Walker took out his knife and carefully poked through the bag, paying attention to the contents while Trivette searched the room for a second bag.

"I don't see Sydney's bag."

"Some of the things I know Gage keeps in this bag aren't here, either," Walker pointed out. He checked the bathroom and asked the desk clerk if all the towels and toiletries were intact.

"Oh, yes. We only allow one set of towels per person, we charge for extra towels," the clerk reported proudly.

"Well, they didn't use the shower, then." Walker led the way out of the room. On the way back to the truck, another kicked-in door caught his eye.

"What happened here?" he asked the desk clerk.

"They must have had a scuffle with another guest, I guess," she replied sheepishly.

"I need that guest's information, we're going to need to talk to them."

"I can't give that out!" the clerk protested loudly.

Walker tapped his badge. The clerk rolled her eyes but led him back to the front desk. A quick look at the records showed there were no guests in that room, and hadn't been for quite a while.

"Now, what about the damages?" the clerk demanded.

"Somehow, I don't think my friends were responsible for those damages," Walker replied, "especially after seeing that second room's door kicked in. And somehow, I think you might know who is."

The clerk's eyes grew large, the several heavy coats of mascara she wore gave her a clown-like look.

"But I didn't have anything to do…" she fumbled over her words.

"That's okay," Walker said. "But we may be back to talk to you."

Trivette followed him out the door to the truck. "What do you think happened here?"

"I think somebody is after them and they managed to get out ahead of them," Walker replied. "As for where they are, I don't know. My guess is they saw the same news report you did and they're laying low, staying out of sight, and trying to get back to Dallas."

Walker's cell phone rang.

"Hi, Alex. Did Dan have any luck?"

"_We found the number, but Dan said it's for a burner phone. We'll probably never know who Johnny Leftall called."_

"Give me the number. I have an idea."

With the number Alex gave him in hand, Walker called Captain Phillips at Company E.

"Captain! Does your forensics department still have that voice analysis software? Have you ever used it on phone calls? No? Just phone messages. How would you like to experiment with it? I have an idea. Trivette and I are going to come in. I'll explain it all then."

* * *

Sydney awoke and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. Judging from the heat of the day and the amount of sunlight coming into the windows of the dilapidated old shack, it had to be well on its way to noon. Something had roused her from sleep and she looked around the room, trying to find the source of the noise.

She heard it again, this time, realizing it was from outside. The crunch of a footstep on the dry ground, a pause, and then another crunch. Sydney reached for her gun and eased it from its holster before waking Gage.

"Gage. Gage." She whispered into his ear, shaking him gently. "Gage, somebody's outside."

Gage was awake and alert almost instantly. He sat up and scanned the room, looking for a place for them to take cover.

The blast of a gun and shattering glass from the shack's window's lone pane of glass and splintering wood broke the late morning's stillness. Gage rolled one way across the floor, Sydney the other. With guns drawn, they watched and waited. A shadow crossed the floor as whoever was outside walked around the building and blocked the light passing through the cracks between the weathered boards of the building's walls.

Gage noticed the shadow and nodded toward Sydney. She took aim toward where the person was walking and shot. More wood splintered and a surprised "Ooof" sounded from outside. They were hit.

A return shot fired through the building. Gage fired back in the same direction.

More shots fired. Sydney and Gage tried to keep up with the shots and what direction they were coming from until the sound of an engine filled the air. It grew louder and louder. As they tried to figure out what was making the noise and where it was coming from, a shadow filled the doorway with a rifle raised.

"Gage!" Sydney screamed as the person took aim. Gage dove across the floor, out of the line of fire as Sydney fired multiple rounds toward the person. He dropped in the doorway just as Sydney's ammunition ran out.

The engine noise kept growing louder. Gage tossed his gun to Sydney and grabbed the rifle from the dead man in the doorway.

"Cover me!" he shouted to Sydney as he flattened himself against the wall of the shack, trying to get a look outside at what the vehicle was that was headed their way.

He finally saw it. A rider on an ATV was headed right toward the shack with a gun drawn and pointed. Gage raised the rifle and fired and the rider was thrown backwards. With nobody to gas the throttle, the ATV slowed and stopped, idling just feet from the front of the building.

The ATV's engine was the only noise to be heard, but Sydney and Gage knew not to trust the eerie calm. They stepped out of the building with guns drawn and cautiously circled the building. They found one man clad in camouflage laying on the ground around the side of the shack. He was the one Sydney had shot through the wall. He was still alive, struggling to breathe as he pressed his hand over a wound high on his chest.

"How many are there of you?" Gage asked, kicking the injured man's gun away.

"Just… three…" the man choked out. "Man, don't… let… me…" and he was silent.

Gage turned to Sydney and wrapped her in a tight embrace. They stood that way for a long time.

"You okay?" he finally asked.

"I'm good. What about you?" she asked in reply.

"I'm good, too."

"Who are these people?" Sydney questioned.

"No idea, but let's hope we don't find any more of them." Together, they walked back around the front of the shack. The ATV sat there, still idling.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Gage asked with a grin.

"They don't seem to be needing it anymore," Sydney smiled back.

In minutes, they were packed and settled on the ATV, headed off across the desert and towards Texas.


	7. Chapter 7

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been slow going, but here it is - I've been cleared to do small tasks with my broken wrist, including typing, and I did have several large portions of this chapter already written, so I was able to get this one done. Thank you all for your patience! I will try to get the upcoming chapters done as quickly as possible, but typing is slow and typos run rampant. I do hope the story is well worth the wait - I think it will be!**_

"So, we just click this, and run the call through here and the software will record and analyze everything. It doesn't tell us the exact location the call was made from, but it tells us a lot about where the call was made and a lot about the caller, too. This program allows us to single out background noises, other voices and conversations, and even allows us to compare calls to see if they were made by the same person," Captain Phillips' lead forensics technician explained the voice analysis software to Walker and Trivette. "The only thing is, we've only ever used it on recordings, voicemail, answering machines, that kind of thing. We haven't yet tried it on a live call."

"So, we get to be the guinea pigs," Walker said, not exactly joking.

"Sort of," the technician replied. "But I am pretty excited to see how this works. This could give us a whole new avenue in crime fighting. Just think, if this works, we can use this in kidnapping cases or hostage situations. Any time we're on the phone with a suspect, we would be able to use this software and get a whole new perspective on the situation."

Walker nodded. The technician was right, but Walker wasn't interested in being the guinea pig. He was interested in proving a theory that was, at the moment, nothing more than a wild guess.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it, Walker?" Captain Phillips remarked. "Let us know when you're ready, gentlemen," he addressed his team.

A few more taps on a keyboard and they were set. The technician nodded to Walker. "Go ahead. Make your call."

Walker dialed the number Alex had given him. It was the number Dan Johnson had been able to find, the number Johnny Leftall had called when he said he was calling his attorney. The call was on speaker, and everyone in the room was silent as the phone on the other end rang once. Rang twice.

A curt voice answered. "Who is it?"

"Who is this?" Walker asked.

"Who wants to know?" the curt voice asked.

"Somebody who wants to know who killed Johnny Leftall."

"Never heard of him."

"He heard of you. This was the last number he called before he was murdered."

"Maybe he dialed a wrong number."

"No," Walker answered. "He said he was calling his attorney."

"Pffft. Ain't no attorneys here. And if that asshole is dead, he probably deserved it."

The call ended with an abrupt click.

"Did you get enough?" Walker asked the technician.

"Plenty." The technician clicked a few more keys on the keyboard and another screen came up showing a graphic of both Walker's voice and the voice of the person on the other end of the line. Another graph came up showing more information regarding background noise. While the technician was looking over the data, Walker's cell phone rang.

Realizing his phone was still patched through the computer, Walker hesitated. "Do you mind if I run this call through the software?" the technician asked. "We can always use the practice."

"No problem, go ahead," Walker replied, and answered the call when the technician gave him the okay.

"Walker."

"_Ranger Walker! Sheriff Pickford here. I was just calling to check in with you. I heard from a buddy of mine with the Highway Patrol that they found a car belonging to you folks over in __Doña__ Ana County. Was wondering if your people were okay?"_

"We're still looking for them, Sheriff," Walker replied. "They called and checked in, but we haven't been able to get in touch with them since. Cell phone service in your neck of the woods isn't the best, is it?"

"_No, no it isn't, unfortunately. I do hope they're okay and if I can do anything to help you out, just give me a holler. I can get a couple of my deputies on it and I know a few state boys that can lend a hand, too."_

"I appreciate that Sheriff."

Walker ended the call and the technician clicked away at the keyboard.

"Whoa, this is interesting!" the technician remarked.

"What's that?" Captain Phillips asked.

"Can't be," the technician said. He clicked a few more keys and brought the information up from both calls to compare them side by side. "That can't be. There must be a glitch in the software."

"What's wrong?" Captain Phillips asked again.

"The data from the person Walker called matches the data for the person that just called Walker. I don't mean just bits and pieces," the technician reported. "It matches exactly!"

"So, what does that mean?" Walker asked.

"Well, if I'm reading this correctly – and I'm pretty sure I am – it means you called the same person that called you."

* * *

"So, Johnny Leftall called Sheriff Pickford," Trivette mused once he and Walker were back in the truck. "Did you suspect that?"

"I had a feeling he didn't call an attorney," Walker replied. "But I'm not sure how Pickford figures into this. There are a lot of things that don't add up. That border patrol office, for one. I didn't buy his explanation. With the war on drugs at an all-time high, you'd think that office would be manned at least part time, and he said they didn't use it much."

"Yeah, and not to mention it's in an odd place for border patrol," Trivette added.

"Something else bothers me," Walker continued. "I've been in border patrol offices in El Paso and Brownsville. They're buried in paperwork in those offices. That office didn't have so much as a scrap of paper in a trash can or a file cabinet. I'm willing to bet they don't use that building for border patrol, no matter what Pickford says. And I have a feeling -"

"Oh boy, there's that Cherokee again," Trivette ribbed his partner good-naturedly.

"Call it Cherokee or call it whatever you want, but I have a feeling Pickford knows a lot more about Johnny Leftall's murder than he's letting on. And I think he knows what happened to Gage and Sydney, too," Walker said. "The problem is getting him to admit it."

Walker pulled out his cell phone and punched up Alex's number on his speed dial.

"Well, hello, cowboy!" Alex answered cheerfully.

"Alex, did you find anything out about the Otero County DA?"

"_I did. His name is Patrick Ortiz. Word is he's a pit bull in court. I also found out something else interesting."_

"What's that?"

"_Ortiz did some time in rehab. Cocaine. When he got out, Sheriff Pickford did a lot of legwork to help him get back in office."_

"Really? Is that legal?"

"_It's definitely shady. Seems Ortiz and the sheriff are thick as thieves." _

"Damn. I was hoping if we talked to Ortiz, he might be on our side. It doesn't sound like he'd be somebody we can trust now."

"_Why's that, Walker? Is there a problem with the sheriff?"_

"I'm not sure, Alex, but I'm not getting a good vibe on him right now. Did you hear anything from Gage and Sydney?"

"_Not since they called from the motel the other night."_

"Let me know if you hear anything. We'll be in touch."

"_I will. And Walker?"_

"Yes?"

"_Be careful."_

"I always am, Alex."

Walker canceled the call and punched up another number on his cell. When Captain Briscoe answered, he made a request that made Trivette's jaw drop in surprise.

"The Feds?" Trivette asked when Walker was done speaking with the captain. "Walker, you hate dealing with the Feds more than anyone else!"

"I know. But we won't get any help from the DA out here and we're out of our jurisdiction. The only way we're going to get some answers is to go over a lot of heads. That's going to require bringing in the heavy hitters."

"You can't get much heavier than the Feds," Trivette said.

"No, you can't. And I have a feeling we're going to need all the ammunition they can bring."

* * *

The ATV ran out of gas about an out later, leaving Gage and Sydney to travel on foot.

"That was short-lived," Sydney cracked.

"It was an hour we didn't have to walk," Gage replied.

"I wish that 4-wheeler would have run out of gas closer to somewhere we could at least have gotten some food," Sydney said. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, me too."

They walked along in silence, paying close attention to their surroundings until they came up on a road.

"Which direction?" Sydney asked.

"I'm not sure. Everything out here looks the same." The unchanging landscape had left Gage disoriented. "Let's try this way," he pointed to the right. "We'll go this way for fifteen minutes. If it looks like it's leading us nowhere, we'll turn around and come back."

Sydney checked her watch. "Sounds about as good an idea as any."

* * *

When Sydney was about to suggest they turn back, a few buildings came in to view: a post office, a convenience store, a few small houses, and a church with the remains of a cemetery behind it. The only hint that it wasn't a ghost town were the lonely couple of cars on the dusty road that passed by the forlorn collection of buildings.

"Looks like we found our way back to civilization," Gage noted dryly.

"And possibly food," Sydney added.

"That too," Gage replied.

Sydney dug in her pockets and pulled out what little cash she had left. "Maybe we ought to check out that convenience store and see if they have some sandwiches. And water. We need some more bottles of water." She started to walk toward town.

"Oh no. No." Gage protested.

"What? Why not?"

"Syd, you have no idea if they saw that news bulletin here." Gage took the bills from her hand. "Let me go."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot I'm a wanted woman. Not that you're going to draw any less suspicion, though." Sydney nodded at Gage's bloodstained shirt.

Gage stopped in mid-step. "Yeah. That is a problem, isn't it," he realized as he looked down at his shirt.

"Here," Sydney said. "Try this." She helped him out of the gray button-down shirt he was wearing over a darker gray t-shirt and then arranged it carefully over his shoulder so the bloodstains were hidden and it looked like he had just casually thrown the shirt over his shoulder. She stood back and gave an approving nod. "That's better."

Gage started toward the store. "Stay here and stay out of sight," he ordered as Sydney ducked behind a cluster of small bushes.

He returned shortly with a bag of sandwiches, snacks and bottles of water. The store clerk had barely paid him any attention as he walked through the store gathering what he needed and only looked at him briefly to answer the couple of questions Gage had asked.

"Good news," Gage smiled as he handed Sydney the bag from the store. "I found us a place to hide out for the day."

"Where?"

"The church."

"Really?"

Gage had asked the store clerk about the cemetery under the guise of looking for the grave of a long-lost relative. The clerk told him that the church was no longer in use, but he was probably welcome to take a look around at the graves. When Gage asked about a caretaker, the clerk just gave a half-hearted laugh and asked Gage if he'd actually seen the condition of the church or the cemetery. A quick look when Gage left the store proved what the clerk meant. Several of the church's windows were broken and the front door was askew. A few of the headstones were knocked over and whatever weeds could grow in the dry, dusty dirt had taken over the cemetery landscape. It was the perfect hiding place.

* * *

Out of sight in a corner of the old church and out of the heat of the day, Gage and Sydney ate their sandwiches and studied the map, planning the night's route.

"You know, this is kind of an odd place for a picnic, but I like it," Sydney remarked, taking a long sip of water.

"I think it's the company," Gage said, flashing Sydney the boyish grin that always managed to make her feel like a swarm of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach. This time, though, the butterflies were due to something more.

Sydney pulled the go-bag toward her and dug around in it, finally pulling out the scissors from the first aid kit.

"What are you doing?" Gage asked.

"I was thinking when you went for the food. As long as there's a chance people saw that news bulletin, I'm dangerous."

Gage snickered. "Armed and dangerous?"

"I'm not kidding, Gage," Sydney's face was stark. "If people saw that and they find us, I could get us - get you – killed. That scares the hell out of me. So, I'm going to cut my hair."

"What? Syd, no! Your hair is beautiful. You don't need to do that!" A look of horror crossed Gage's face.

"It's not like I can dress up like a cocktail waitress and be somebody else until we get back to Dallas, Gage. I have to look different. The only way I can do that right now is to cut my hair."

"Are you sure?" Gage asked, "Because you really don't need to do this."

"I'm sure, Gage, and yes, I do need to do this." Sydney replied, both her voice and face resolute with her decision. When Gage realized she was serious, he was suddenly overcome by how much Sydney's gesture meant to him.

"Okay," his voice had a hint of sadness to it. "Okay, then. Do you want me to help you?" Gage held his hand out. Sydney looked at him and then at the scissors in her own hand. She opened her mouth to reply, but could only choke back tears. She handed Gage the scissors and nodded slowly.

The pile of Sydney's long locks on the church floor grew as Gage carefully clipped away. Afterwards, Sydney ran her fingers through her now chin-length hair.

"It feels so much lighter," she said, "like I hardly have any hair left at all."

"You still have hair. I didn't cut it all off." Gage replied. "And for the record, I think you look adorable." Gage stroked Sydney's shorn hair, resting his hand at the nape of her neck. He fought off the urge to pull her close and kiss her.

"I'll take your word for it," Sydney smiled. Without a mirror, she had no choice. "Gage?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"We're partners, Syd. That's what we do," Gage replied. This time, he did kiss her, a very quick, gentle kiss on the top of the head. He wanted more, but decided he'd make do with that little bit. "We should try to sleep. We need to move tonight."

* * *

The light of the full moon on the dial of her wristwatch showed that it was almost three in the morning. They had been walking for about four hours and Sydney was exhausted. She was also really concerned about Gage. Several times they'd had to stop to rest because he wasn't feeling well. Once, when he stood up after a rest break, he fell. He told her he tripped over a rock that he didn't see in the dark, but Sydney wasn't so sure about that. She was worried that he had an infection brewing in that wound on his shoulder. The lack of sleep and the stress of their situation certainly wasn't helping things, either.

"Gage, maybe we should look for a place to stop and rest for a while."

"Why, Syd? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well, I'm just really tired, and, to tell you the truth, I'm getting worried about you."

"I'm fine, Syd."

"Not when you keep tripping over rocks. And you're sweating buckets, Gage. I need to look at your shoulder. I'm afraid it's getting infected."

"It feels fine."

"It might feel fine, but I still need to look at it. Now quit arguing with me and start looking for a place where we can rest."

The flat landscape didn't seem to offer much in the way of shelter and the pair walked on until a large shape loomed in the moonlight. As they drew closer, they could make out a small cluster of large boulders and what appeared to be a couple of abandoned vehicles.

"Wonder what this is?" Gage mused as he pulled the flashlight from the go-bag and shined it around the area, illuminating an old VW bus painted with graffiti and the remains of an old pickup truck. The truck's grille, doors, tailgate and wheels were missing, but most of the VW bus's exterior was still intact. The interior proved otherwise, as the only seat left was the driver's seat.

Sydney wrinkled her nose in disgust. "God, this thing stinks! What the hell died in here?"

"I don't know," Gage replied. "And I don't think I want to spend the night figuring it out. How about we just camp out by those rocks?" Gage shined the flashlight around the largest boulder, hoping he wouldn't find the den of any kind of New Mexico's least welcoming wildlife. When he was convinced it was clear, he spread the blanket on the ground and motioned to Sydney to join him.

"You said you were tired. You can look at my shoulder in the morning."

Within minutes, Sydney was sound asleep. Gage lay next to her trying to fall asleep himself, but sleep was far away. Sydney was right. His shoulder was becoming a problem and it was slowing them down. They needed to get help, but he needed to keep her safe. There was no telling how many people had seen the news bulletin he was certain the mystery person known as the Chief had fabricated, and there was no telling what someone would do if they happened to recognize Sydney, even with her short hair. His first priority was keeping her safe, even at the expense of his own well-being. He had to do it because she was his partner and because sometime over the last few days of being with her, he'd come to realize that during his time as her partner, he'd fallen in love with her.

* * *

"You need stitches," Sydney repeated, pressing hard against the wound on Gage's shoulder to try to stop the bleeding. "We need to try to get you to a doctor or a hospital."

"Like that's going to happen. First, we don't even know how close we are to a hospital. Then there's this little issue about you being wanted by the police, and let's not forget that this Chief character and his band of merry men are looking for us." Gage dragged their go-bag to his side and began rooting through it until he found the first aid kit. He opened it and began sorting through the contents. They were running low on pretty much everything, and Sydney had already resorted to cutting a spare t-shirt into strips to clean and wrap the wound. Two little white packets caught Gage's eye – a pack of matches, and a neatly packaged travel sewing kit with a needle and all-purpose, clear nylon thread that reminded him of fishing line. He suddenly recalled something a medic had told him when he was in the service.

"Syd, maybe we don't need a doctor. Maybe we can do this ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" Syd asked, curiously eyeing the little white packets in Gage's hand. Noticing one was a pack of matches, her eyes went wide.

"Oh, no. Don't you even think of cauterization. No. I'm not doing that, Gage. Besides, that's dangerous. That could kill you."

"I wasn't thinking about that, Syd."

"Then what are those matches for?" Sydney asked suspiciously.

"For sterilization."

"Sterilization for what?"

"We have an option. It's not a great option, but given our circumstances, it's the best we've got. When I was in the service, one of the medics taught us some emergency first aid training that was a little, well, it was a little unconventional, but he taught us how to do things in case we were ever in a situation where the medics couldn't get to us and we needed to take care of wounds. He said if we had to, we could," Gage paused and held up the sewing kit "we could stitch up our own wounds if we had the right tools."

"So, you're going to stitch this up with a needle and thread?" Sydney asked, gesturing to the wound on Gage's shoulder that was still oozing blood from under her hand.

"That would be a little bit difficult for me to do," Gage grinned. "So, I thought maybe you could help me out?"

Sydney's eyes and mouth went wide and her face went pale as she looked at the matches and sewing kit and the small bottle of alcohol Gage was holding out to her.

"You can't be serious."

"He told us how to do it. You need to heat the needle until it glows red, and then clean it and the thread really good with alcohol and make sure there's nothing in the wound before you start to close it. Then you have to get close to the edge, but not so close that it tears through the skin. And you have to get deep enough that the stitches won't pull out. Make them tight enough to bring the edges together, but not too tight."

"Gage, you don't want me to do this. Really. I mean, I can barely sew a button and you want me to stitch your shoulder?" Sydney sounded frantic.

"You can do this, Syd. We don't really have a choice. You don't have to get it perfect. You just have to get the wound closed. That's all." Gage sounded eerily calm.

"I don't know, Gage. I don't know." Sydney took the sewing kit and alcohol, though, and listened intently to Gage's instructions on how to clean the wound on his shoulder and make sure there was nothing in it that could cause it to become infected once it was closed. When he drew a sharp breath as the alcohol stung the open wound, Sydney quickly withdrew her hand.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" she cried, as if the pain had stung her as well.

"It's okay." Gage replied, "you've got to clean it out. Clean it good."

Sydney went back to cleaning the wound, wincing every time Gage did.

"I'm so sorry. I know this stings," she said sympathetically.

"I'm okay," Gage answered. "It'll hurt worse if it gets infected."

Sydney finished cleaning the wound, thankful that part of the task was done. Then she used the matches and alcohol to sterilize the needle and the nylon thread.

"Gage, are you sure about this? I mean absolutely sure? We can try to get to a doctor."

"Syd, we have no idea where we are or how close we are to a doctor. We've been out here how many days now and every time I move, the damn thing opens up and I lose more and more blood. I'm starting to get weak. I can't have your back and mine if I get much weaker. I know you don't like the idea, but we have to do this. So yeah, I'm absolutely sure."

"Okay," Sydney closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She held the needle just over Gage's shoulder, readying herself to make the first stitch. Just before she touched the needle to his skin, Gage reached up and grabbed her hand.

Oh, thank God, she thought. He changed his mind.

Gage noticed Sydney's hand was shaking. "Syd. Syd, look at me," he commanded.

Sydney did as he told her, his ice-blue eyes intensely fixed on hers.

"I trust you, Syd. One hundred percent, I trust you." Gage squeezed her hand tightly and then let go. He nodded at her, a silent okay for her to go on with the unpleasant task at hand.

Sydney held her breath as she pierced Gage's skin with the needle. He winced and gasped. He hadn't anticipated how much the tiny needle would hurt.

"Sorry!" Sydney breathed as she tried to control her roiling stomach, but she finished the first stitch.

"That one's done," she said, tying off the first stitch. "Maybe another five or six to go?"

Gage didn't answer. He leaned back against the side of the rock and closed his eyes tight. After a few minutes, he noticed he didn't feel the pinch of the needle or the pull of the thread anymore. He opened his eyes to see if Sydney had finished. No, she was still slowly working on each careful stitch. He realized that his shoulder had gone numb from the pain. He watched Sydney's face intently, how she was deep in concentration, although her face was pale and her dark eyes looked almost black in comparison.

"Last one," she said quietly. She carefully made the final stitch that closed the wound and tied it off. She wiped off the needle with alcohol, put it back in the sewing kit and put everything away in the first aid kit and then carefully wrapped Gage's shoulder with a bandage made from a piece of a t-shirt.

"All done," she gave Gage a weak smile. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good. Good. How about you?"

"Fine. I need to take a walk for a second," she replied.

Sydney walked slowly and unsteadily around the side of the boulder. Going from the shade to bright sunlight was blinding and only made her stomach feel worse. As soon as she was out of sight, she dropped to her knees onto the dry, dusty ground and felt the bile rising in her throat. She threw up until her stomach muscles ached from dry heaving. She knelt on the ground, holding her suddenly aching head in her hands. At least that part's over, she thought to herself. At least it's over. She licked her parched lips, tasting salt, and realized she was crying.

In the shade on the other side of the boulder, Gage heard Sydney retching and emptying her stomach. He tried to get up, but felt his head swim before he could get to his feet. It was probably better to leave her alone at the moment, he thought. She would want to maintain her pride. It would be important to her. Instead, he dug in the bottom of their go-bag for one of the last two bottles of water. When Sydney came back, her face pale and her eyes rimmed red, Gage offered her the bottle of water.

"Oh, Gage, no. You need that." Sydney protested.

"I'd say you need it, too," he replied. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm… I will be. I guess I wasn't cut out for the medical field." Sydney settled next to Gage and leaned back against the rock. Gage opened the bottle of water and handed it to her. She took a few sips and handed it back, letting him take a few sips also.

Gage wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

"Thank you, Syd." When she looked up at him, he repeated himself. "I mean it. Thank you."

"We're partners. It's what we do. Isn't that what you said?" she replied almost nonchalantly before resting her head on his good shoulder.

"It's more than that, Syd," Gage whispered, stroking her hair and resting his head on hers. "It's more than that."


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all for your patience and get-well wishes! I'm doing much better, and while typing is still a slow process, it is good therapy! If you haven't checked out Chapter 7, please do... Enjoy Chapter 8, and thank you all for your kind reviews!**

Walker, Trivette, Captain Phillips, and two federal agents sat at a table in a conference room in the Company E headquarters looking at pictures that flashed onto a screen on the wall.

"We knew Johnny Leftall was running coke for somebody, we just weren't sure who, which is why we didn't pick him up earlier," Captain Phillips explained. "We were hoping we could follow him and he'd lead us to his source, but it never happened. Then he turned up in Dallas, and we decided to turn up the heat on him, see if we could scare him into talking. Unfortunately, that didn't go as planned."

"We don't even know what he was doing in Dallas," Walker added. "He had twenty bricks of cornstarch on him. We don't know if somebody was trying to set him up or if he was trying to set somebody else up."

Another picture flashed onto the screen, this one of another man.

"Who's that?" Trivette asked.

"Alejandro Cabal, one of the biggest drug dealers in the southwest," Agent Morelli replied. "We've been trying to bring down his operation for months, but it has not gone well. From what information we've been able to gather, Leftall was the one running coke between the supplier and Cabal. We weren't able to find out who the supplier was before our inside guy turned up dead. After that, we started tailing Cabal and noticed some odd behavior. He showed up at Sheriff Wallace Pickford's house late at night just a few nights ago. He's also become quite chummy with the Otero County DA; Ortiz is his name -"

Walker raised his hand to stop the agent before he said any more. "Did you say he went to visit Sheriff Pickford?"

Agent Morelli nodded. "Should that mean anything?"

Walker filled the agents in on what had happened with the Johnny Leftall case and how he and Trivette had met Sheriff Pickford at a pristinely empty border patrol office. He explained how he'd gotten a strange vibe about the sheriff, how Sydney and Gage were still missing, and how the data from the phone call he'd made to the number for Johnny Leftall's attorney matched the data from the phone call he received from Pickford.

"I don't know how Pickford is involved, but something tells me he is. At the very least, he knows more than what he's letting on," Walker finished.

"Maybe we need to start with the one definite in the case," Agent Lucas said. "Johnny Leftall. We'll make some calls, pull his phone records, search his house, have a talk with Pickford. We'll call it a missing person investigation right now; say he has family looking for him. Maybe the trail will lead back to Pickford and his involvement here. And hopefully, Ranger Walker, we'll find Rangers Gage and Cooke."

* * *

The shift in the wind was the second thing Sydney noticed when she woke up, the first being that even with her hair now cut short, it was still hot and still clung to her neck and forehead in damp ribbons. The occasional light and welcome breeze from earlier that morning had become a stiff and angry wind charged with electricity, and the sky in the distance was now black and punctuated occasionally with streaks of lightning. Tiny dust tornadoes began to form and swirl and dance across the ground and the air had an ominous feel. Sydney shivered in spite of the heat.

Leaning against the boulder beside her, Gage was still asleep. She hated to wake him, but there was a storm coming and they needed to find shelter. She also wanted to check his shoulder to make sure the stitches had held. Sydney shivered again. Of all the things she'd done as a ranger – of all the things she'd done in her life – she never imagined she'd have stitched her partner's shoulder with a needle and thread. She fought to quell the uneasiness in her stomach at the thought and gently shook Gage awake.

"Gage. Gage, wake up. Gage!"

The tall, blond ranger stirred and mumbled in his sleep.

"Gage! Wake up!"

He opened his eyes and blinked at their surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was.

"Gage, there's a storm coming. We have to get moving." Sydney stood and started to gather their go-bag and blanket. Before she could get the blanket folded, the first large raindrops began to fall.

"Damn it," she hissed. "Now what?"

Fully awake now, Gage motioned to the graffiti-covered VW bus and the remains of the old truck. "We'll ride it out in there." He grabbed the blanket from Sydney and they ran to the abandoned vehicles.

"Oh, God," Sydney grimaced as she climbed into the VW bus and the stench inside assaulted her senses. "At least whatever is in here is dead." She dropped the go-bag on the floor and moved in enough to make room for Gage.

The sudden buzzing noise seemed out of place and didn't make sense to her. It didn't sound like the rain beating on the roof of the old bus and somehow it reminded her of radio static but she knew that wasn't right, either. Sydney looked around, trying to identify the source of the buzzing. What the hell? she thought to herself as it seemed to get louder but she couldn't seem to –

Her sudden horrified scream pierced the air when she finally saw the source, a rattlesnake coiled under the remains of the dry-rotted driver's seat.

Gage leaped into the bus and immediately saw what had terrified Sydney. "Syd, don't move!" he ordered as he pulled his gun from its holster. Taking quick and careful aim, he fired at the snake, killing it. Gage toed the now silent and lifeless creature out of the bus and kicked at the seat and dashboard to try to stir any remaining snakes out of hiding. Only after he was satisfied there were no more unwanted guests sharing the bus with them did he turn his attention back to a still visibly-shaken Sydney.

"It's gone," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to his chest.

"But there might be more?" Sydney's voice sounded almost childlike.

"No. I checked. It was the only one." Gage hugged her again to reassure her. Outside, lightning flashed violently and the rain beating on the roof of the old VW was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the thunder. Gage tossed the blanket over the floor and then motioned for Sydney to join him.

"Looks like we'll be waiting this one out a while," he smiled.

* * *

The rain lasted all day, at times pounding so hard on the roof of the abandoned bus that it was impossible to even hold a conversation in the close quarters. Outside, the rain formed miniature raging rivers across the parched ground, rearranging bits and pieces of the landscape and forming new rises and gullies in the dusty earth. Gage suggested they try to sleep so they would be able to move on as soon as the storm passed, but Sydney found sleep impossible. Her encounter with the snake had left her on edge and she was restless. If there had been enough room to pace in the abandoned vehicle, she would have been on her feet, counting the miles.

By the time dusk had fallen, the rain still had not stopped and Sydney's restlessness had not ceased. Her frustration finally hit its boiling point and she burst into uncontrollable tears.

"Syd. Syd, what's wrong?" Gage asked with genuine concern. In all the time he'd known Sydney, he could never once recall seeing her cry, not even at CD's funeral, and even he had cried that day. He tried to wrap an arm around her but she waved him away.

"Syd, come on, tell me what's wrong!"

Sydney's sobs came in choked breaths as she tried to force out the words. "I can't do this anymore. I just want to go home!" she finally managed.

"Oh, Syd, I know." Gage eased an arm around her shoulders and this time, she didn't push him away. "We're going to get home. I promise you."

"I can't stand it, Gage. I'm afraid of snakes, I need a shower, I want to sleep in my own bed, I had to cut my hair –"

"I like your hair like this, Syd. But if you don't, it'll grow back before you know it."

"I just want to go home, Gage. Promise me you'll take me back home?" Sydney sniffled and rubbed at the tears that still streaked down her face.

"Oh, Syd," Gage wrapped his partner in a warm embrace and stroked her hair and her back until her sobs subsided. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted her tear-stained face up to his and brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. "Syd, I will take you home. I promise. You've been so strong through all this and you've done way more than any partner should ever have needed to and because of that, I am going to make sure you get home perfectly safe and sound. I just need you to be strong for just a little while longer. Can you do that? Just a little bit longer, Syd?"

Sydney sniffled and nodded in reply.

"Good girl. How about we try to get some sleep so we can get out of here when it quits raining?" Gage eased down onto the blanket, expecting Sydney to duck out of his arms and fall asleep beside him. Instead, she snuggled closer, tucking her head into the spot under his shoulder that seemed to be made just for her. In just a few minutes, her hitched breathing and sniffles evened out, letting Gage know she had calmed herself and had fallen asleep. Now it was Gage who had difficulty breathing and sleeping thanks to the beautiful, petite woman who had curled an arm around his neck in her sleep. He bowed his head to place a gentle kiss on the top of her head and wrapped a protective arm around her.

"I promise, Syd, I'll get you home," he whispered.

* * *

The desert landscape took on a completely different look after a hard rain. Overnight, the brown and dusty landscape had drunk its fill of water and had renewed itself with signs of life everywhere Sydney looked. Once dry bushes were now vibrant green and smatterings of desert flowers poked their colorful heads out of ground that had been too parched to sustain anything but tumbleweeds the day before. Even the air was cooler and felt refreshing after the storm had gone through.

From what Gage could figure from the map, they were about a day's walk from the next large town. From there, they could rent a car or find a bus station and be on their way back to Texas by the next morning. They'd call Walker, explain the situation and let him know they were on their way back to Dallas. They'd be back at their desks the following morning, filling out a ridiculous amount of paperwork on what was supposed to have been the routine transfer of a suspect. The important thing, though, was that they'd be home and back to their usual routine: bickering over who was driving, stopping for coffee in the morning, eating Chinese take-out and watching movies at each other's places on Wednesday evenings, sparring in the ranger gym after work. Life would be back to normal and they could put the whole Johnny Leftall mess behind them.

They walked in silence, although there were volumes needing to be said between them. Sydney wanted to apologize for her tear-filled breakdown the day before, but her pride wouldn't let her. Gage wanted to let Sydney know that her breakdown didn't make her look weak or change how he felt about her as a partner. Neither one said anything, however. They just walked silently, hoping the other would understand the words they didn't say.

* * *

"More rain?" Sydney complained. "You've got to be kidding me!" It was approaching early evening and they'd watched the clouds darken and gather overhead all day while the wind had begun to pick up once more. The partners had been following the route Gage had charted on the map, staying off of the road, but keeping it in sight.

Gage stopped to check the map as the light drizzle began to turn to a steady rain. "We should be coming up on Las Cruces fairly soon. We'll find somewhere to get out of the rain there."

He had barely gotten the words out when they came upon a raised highway on-ramp on the outskirts of the city, at the edge of an industrial park. Gage pointed up underneath the on-ramp. "We can camp out under here," he said, starting up the cement embankment and extending a hand to Sydney to help her.

Sydney took a look around at their surroundings. Trash, discarded clothing, and an overturned shopping cart were scattered about. "What the hell?" she muttered.

"I know," Gage replied. "It looks like it may have been a homeless camp at some point."

"Ironic," Sydney snarked.

"Syd, I promise. I am going to get you home. We just need to find a place to get out of the rain, in case it turns into a storm like yesterday. We don't have too many options, in case –"

Sydney cut him off. "In case they saw the news bulletin. Yeah, I know."

"As soon as it quits raining, we'll go rent a car or get bus tickets home. I promise," Gage repeated. "For now, let's just work on getting out of the rain and staying dry."

The top of the embankment leveled out, creating a spot for Gage and Sydney to camp out just under the on-ramp out of the rain. Sydney had to admit that their makeshift campsite was actually quite cozy. They were dry and hidden from sight and the hum of the cars on the ramp overhead was actually rather relaxing. Gage spread the blanket out and motioned Sydney to sit down. He pulled the bag of snacks and water from the go-bag and offered Sydney a Slim-Jim and a bag of chips.

"Wonder if our phones are charged up enough to try to call Walker?" Gage tossed Sydney her phone while he hit the power switch on his.

Sydney tried to power up her phone. "No, no luck. There's not enough charge to power mine up. How about you?" she asked.

"Same here," Gage replied. "That's okay. We'll be headed home tomorrow." He returned the phones back to their go-bag and the two went back to their makeshift dinners.

"First an abandoned church, now a picnic under a bridge in the rain, who would have thought that you would be so good at finding such romantic places to take a girl on dates, Francis Gage?" Sydney teased.

"Let's keep it our little secret," Gage replied with a wink and his boyish grin. Sydney felt that flutter in her stomach again. "If I really wanted to pick a place for a romantic date, a moonlight picnic at that spot by the creek on Walker's ranch is the perfect spot," he added.

"Oh?" Sydney stopped chewing and looked up at him, surprised. "You know this from experience? Did you take Heather there?"

"Heather?" Gage asked, not quite sure at first who Sydney was referring to. Then he remembered. "Oh, no," he replied. "Walker doesn't like her, either."

Sydney laughed, and nothing could have sounded any better to Gage. "So, you've just thought about a moonlight picnic by the creek at Walker's?" she asked. "You've never actually done that?"

"No, I've never actually done that! Do you think Walker would let me take some girl out on his ranch?"

"True." Sydney smiled to herself in satisfaction and busied herself with poking through her bag of chips.

"I bet he'd let me take you there, though," Gage said after a few moments of silence. He was suddenly very interested in something on the horizon and wouldn't look in Sydney's direction.

"Are you asking me?"

"We could go to celebrate getting home." Gage suddenly felt the heat of a blush creeping up from under his collar.

"Yeah." Gage didn't miss the tinge of disappointment in Sydney's voice. "Let me take a look at your shoulder before it gets too dark to see."

Sydney was quiet as she unwrapped the strips of t-shirt she'd used to bandage Gage's shoulder after she'd stitched his wound closed. With her that close to him, and after the conversation they'd had, Gage still felt uncomfortably warm.

"So," he began, "how does it look?"

"Looks good. You'll live." Sydney re-wrapped his shoulder. "I'd go," she said.

"Go? Where?"

"On your moonlight picnic. I mean, if you asked. If you wanted me to." This time it was Sydney's turn to blush.

Gage reached for Sydney's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She was just mere inches away from him, inches that could be quickly and easily closed. He leaned in slowly, noticing as she licked her lips and tilted her head slightly. Three inches. Two inches. One inch. One loud crack of thunder overhead startled them both.

"Jesus!" Gage exclaimed.

"Does it ever quit storming in this place!" Sydney was now a good arm's length away from him, the mood ruined.

Gage began to gather the remains of their supper, stowing the empty wrappers in the bag from the convenience store and throwing everything back into their go-bag.

"It's getting dark," Gage noted as the storm drained the last remaining light of day from the sky, "We should get some sleep. We're heading back to Dallas tomorrow."

"Yeah," Sydney agreed.

It was a long time before either of them slept.

* * *

"We did some digging on this border patrol office," Agent Lucas said, "because what you told us, Ranger Walker, didn't make any sense to us, either." Lucas and his partner, Agent Morelli sat across the Company E conference room table from Walker, Trivette, and Company E's Captain Phillips.

"Most border patrol offices are set up by the federal government. There's no record of a federal order for this office. However, we did find that there was an order for it from the state," Lucas finished.

"Is that a problem?" Captain Phillips asked.

"Not necessarily," Agent Morelli replied. "The state can set up an office if it finds it's absolutely necessary, say in the case of a huge backload of paperwork. That's what makes this particular office so suspicious. The other thing that makes it so suspicious is who pushed for its setup."

"Who was that? Walker asked.

"Patrick Ortiz." Agent Lucas opened a file and showed the men a faxed requisition with Ortiz's signature and a letter to the state of New Mexico explaining the necessity for a border patrol office in Otero County.

"He claims the office was necessary to help Doña Ana County with their backlog. Unfortunately, Doña Ana county didn't have any record of needing any kind of assistance," Agent Lucas continued.

"So maybe we should try to talk to Ortiz?" Trivette offered.

"We already did. Tried to, at least," Agent Morelli said. "He's nowhere to be found."

* * *

The man they called The Chief paced back and forth in his office. He checked his watch again and cursed loudly to nobody as there was nobody else in the room – or in his house for that matter – to hear him. They were late checking in and that was not a good sign.

He paced some more. Damn it, he thought. What was the use of having people working for him if he couldn't trust them to get the job done when he needed it? He poured himself a drink and was contemplating drinking it or throwing the glass across the room in frustration when the phone rang.

Finally, he thought. Fucking finally.

"Yeah," he answered, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Ortiz is taken care of," the voice on the other end of the line replied.

"Any word on your three friends?" he asked, again not trying to hide his annoyance.

"Sorry, Chief. No. Their phones are just going to voicemail. Vanner's car is still parked where he left it. Maybe they're still tailing those two rangers?"

"After all this time? Fucking Stevie Wonder could have found them by now."

"I guess so. Sorry, sir. Anything else? Want me to try to find them?"

"No."

He hung up the phone and took a sip from the glass in his hand, relishing the heat of the whiskey as it burned its way down his throat into his stomach. He swirled the amber beverage in the glass, watching almost mesmerized as the light bounced off the crystal of the glass and the golden hues of the liquid.

"Goddamn," he yelled, hurling the glass across the room. The sound of the glass shattering, the shards of crystal exploding like confetti, and the whiskey trailing down the wall gave him some satisfaction. The men he'd sent after the two rangers hadn't checked in and he had no idea where they were – or where the blond ranger who saw him kill Johnny Leftall and the lady ranger were. That was problem number one. Problem number two were the two other rangers that showed up. Then there were the two federal agents that were snooping around. They were problem number three. They stumbled on the fact that Ortiz made the requisition for the border patrol office and that made Patrick problem number four. That was a shame, because he really did like Patrick, but he just couldn't trust him not to talk. Problem number four was taken care of, though, so now he was just back to three problems involving four Texas rangers and two federal agents. It was enough to give him a headache. He poured another glass of whiskey. This time, he drank.


	9. Chapter 9

When the early light of day woke Gage the next morning, he immediately felt that something was wrong; what it was though, he couldn't quite put his finger on. After a few minutes of looking around, it finally dawned on him. He shook Sydney awake.

"Syd. Syd, wake up."

"Mmmm." Sydney murmured in her sleep but she didn't wake up.

"Syd! Wake up!" Gage shook her a little harder.

Sydney blinked her eyes open. "Geez, Gage. I'm awake. What?" Sydney sounded annoyed. She was annoyed. Gage had awakened her from a lovely dream, one that had started with a moonlight picnic and was just about to end on a blanket under the stars. She was just getting to the good stuff when the co-star of her lovely dream shook her awake.

"Syd, where did you put our go-bag last night?"

"I didn't put it anywhere. It was right here when we went to sleep. Where did you put it?"

"I didn't put it anywhere either," Gage replied, sounding equally as annoyed.

"Well, it has to be here somewhere. Maybe it rolled down the hill." Sydney sat up and looked down the cement embankment. "I'll go look," she said, getting to her feet and slowly and carefully starting down the steep hill while Gage searched once more around the area where they had camped out for the night.

"No, it's not here," Sydney called back after several long minutes. She started back up the embankment under the highway ramp to where Gage was still searching feverishly.

"It's not here, either."

"I don't understand where it could have gotten to," Sydney said with a long sigh.

"Somebody had to have stolen it while we were asleep. Damn it!" Gage shouted in frustration. He sat down and buried his face in his hands.

"Gage, what's the matter?" Sydney sat down beside him.

Gage picked up a stone and tossed it down the embankment, watching it bounce and roll to the bottom.

"Gage?" Sydney asked again when his answer was drowned out by the warning horn of a nearby freight train.

"I put my wallet in the bag," he repeated.

"That's okay, I have – " Sydney paused as she reached for her pocket. "Oh, shit."

"Yours was in the bag, too?" Gage asked.

"Yeah."

Gage pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and slowly shook his head. He sat silently for several moments, listening as the train sounded its warning horn once again.

Finally he spoke, his voice markedly dejected, "Syd, I promised you I'd get you home. Today. And now I don't know how I'm going to do that. Both our wallets are gone, we don't have credit cards to rent a car. We can't even charge our phones to try to call Walker and see if he can help us out of this mess."

"We could try to find a pay phone and a Western Union and see if Alex could wire us the money," Sydney offered.

"Not without ID, we can't," Gage reminded her.

"Oh. Yeah, that's right. Well, maybe we can find the library and send Alex an email and explain our situation. Maybe she can think of a way to help us that doesn't require identification."

"That's if the library doesn't require ID for us to use their computers. And I gotta tell you, Syd, we'd be taking a risk going out in public. If anyone saw –"

Sydney cut him off. "Damn the news bulletin and damn the risk. We're kind of screwed here, Gage. We're going to have to take the chance that people might see us and recognize me. It's a fifty-fifty shot. We don't have much choice if we want to get back home. We have to do what we have to do."

Gage was taken aback by Sydney's sharp tone, the look on his face was as if she had slapped him. When Sydney saw the hurt in his ocean-blue eyes, she knelt next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Gage, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not blaming you, and this isn't your fault. We'll figure out a way to get home. We just need to think. We'll be okay."

Gage turned to look at her. "You think so?" he asked.

"We've been okay this far, haven't we?" Sydney smiled and squeezed his broad shoulders in a hug.

Gage reached an arm around Sydney's waist and hugged her back, returning her smile. "Yes we have," he replied.

"So let's get moving, partner. I hear Texas calling us."

* * *

As Walker predicted, Agents Lucas and Morelli's questioning of Sheriff Pickford about Johnny Leftall's disappearance yielded nothing. Pickford said he'd issue an APB and have his men keep an eye out.

For as little as the agents got with Pickford, they had better luck when they searched Leftall's house. Johnny Leftall was not a very good housekeeper, but he was an excellent note-taker, as the search turned up a notebook listing addresses across west Texas and eastern New Mexico. Each listing also detailed dates, times, and a dollar figure. The search also returned a handful of matchbooks from a bar called Rowdy's, just outside of El Paso and a stone's throw from the New Mexico state line. Agent Lucas arranged for a team to help him and Agent Morelli to check out the locations listed in the notebook while Walker and Trivette headed back to Texas to see what they could find out at Rowdy's.

"Wow, this place is rough," Trivette noted as Walker pulled the Dodge pickup into the parking lot in front of a ramshackle building covered with signs advertising beer specials, local bands, and warning about wearing colors and other gang-related clothing. A few other trucks sat in the lot alongside a handful of motorcycles. The pair walked into the building, taking a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. A pair of pool tables flanked a tiny dance floor in the center of the room. At one end of the building was a stage protected by chicken wire, at the other, a bar ran the full length of the wall.

A few men sat at the bar nursing longnecks. Two bikers were playing pool and arguing loudly. Walker and Trivette approached the bar, and when the bartender acknowledged them, Walker pulled a picture out of his shirt pocket.

"Recognize this man?" he asked as he pushed the photo of Johnny Leftall across the bar.

Before the bartender could reply, a bleach blond in a too-tight skirt and a too-short cropped top sidled up to Walker, a cigarette balanced between her perfectly-manicured fingertips. "I know who he is. Buy me a drink, sugar, and I'll tell you all you need to know."

"You know this man?" Walker asked.

"I sure do," the blond replied, taking a long drag off her cigarette and tossing her head back to exhale the smoke over Walker's head. "The usual, Rocco, and it's on him," she jerked her thumb toward Walker.

"I'll be right back, sugar," she said, tapping a crimson fingernail on Walker's forearm. "And then I'll tell you all about Johnny."

Walker and Trivette watched as the woman sashayed off to the ladies' room in heels that were a good four inches too high for her ability to walk in them.

"You think she really knows Johnny?" Trivette asked as the bartender placed a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of the empty space where the woman had been standing and set a whiskey on the rocks on top of it. He took the ten dollar bill from Walker and returned with a few bills in change.

"She knew his name," Walker replied, "We'll see what she has to say when she comes back."

"I don't know, sugar," Trivette teased. "Maybe she was just using you for a free drink."

A loud scream pierced the air and Walker and Trivette both ran toward the direction of the sound. They found the blond on the floor of the ladies' room in a pool of blood, her throat slashed.

"Call 911!" Walker shouted to the bartender. "We're Texas Rangers. Nobody leaves," he ordered.

* * *

"Where have you been?" the young man in the army jacket demanded.

"Yeah, I'm starving. You said you'd bring food," the girl with the dreadlocks added.

"Relax, relax. I think I got something better." The man in the vintage AC/DC t-shirt tossed a black canvas duffel bag onto the ground in the group's midst.

"There better be food in that," the dreadlocked girl replied, unimpressed.

"Hobie, where'd you find that?" the young man in the army jacket asked.

"I found this couple sleeping under the highway ramp. Just sleeping there. And this was there for the taking, so I took it."

"Jesus, Hobie."

"What about the food?" the girl asked again. "If I starve to death, Hobie, I swear I'm coming back to haunt your fucking ass."

"Oh, shut up, Crystal," the third young man snarled. "Let's open it up, Hobie, see what you found this time."

Hobie unzipped the bag and started pulling out the contents, starting with a bloodstained shirt.

"Gross," Crystal noted.

Hobie pulled out two cell phones.

"Oh, all right, man!" the third young man exclaimed. "Toss those here!" Hobie tossed the phones to him and the young man looked them over.

"They're dead, but they can be charged. And we could probably sell them if we had to make some quick bucks. They're good phones, new ones."

Hobie pulled out a plastic grocery bag and rooted through it. "Here you go, Crystal." He tossed her a pack of peanut butter crackers and a Slim Jim.

"Really, Hobie? The fuck is this shit?" the girl threw the crackers and Slim Jim back at him.

"Hey, you're the one who's been bitching about how damn hungry you are. It ain't like you're getting prime rib out here. Eat it and shut up. I'm sick of hearing you whine," Hobie threw the Slim Jim back at her.

"Knock it off, you two. I swear I'm on a camping trip with a bunch of preschoolers," the young man in the army jacket admonished. "Hobie, you know better than –"

"Holy cheese and beans!" Hobie yelled. "Jackpot, baby, jackpot!" He pulled two wallets out of the bag.  
"Would you look at this!"

He poked through the wallets taking a quick inventory of the contents. "We have cash and cards, boys and girls!"

"Hobie." The young man in the army jacket spoke firmly.

"What the hell, Newill?"

"You're not using those cards. It's too easy to trace them."

"Good Lord, Newill, it ain't like I'm goin' on a Black Friday shopping spree. We'll just go pick up some provisions right before we catch out and never use that card again. By the time mister…. Mister…" Hobie flipped the wallet open to read the name on the driver's license. "Mister Francis Gage finds out his card is missing and has been used, we'll be on a train to sunny California. No problem."

"Yeah, no problem," echoed the third young man as he dug through the bag. He pulled out two tin star badges. "Whoa! Look at this!"

"Texas Ranger badges?" Newill asked incredulously. "You stole from Texas Rangers?"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know they were Texas Rangers?" Hobie asked. "And what would two Texas Rangers be doing sleeping under an on-ramp in New Mexico?"

"Maybe they killed a Texas Ranger," the third young man breathed as he stared at the badges in his hand. "Maybe they're honest-to-shit serial killers."

"Winger, if you were any more of an honest-to-shit idiot, they'd declare you brain dead," Crystal remarked dully, between bites of the Slim Jim she finally gave in and decided to eat.

"You explain the bloody shirt then, smartass," Winger retorted.

Hobie held up his hand. "Shut up, kids. Someone's coming." He quickly gathered everything from the duffel bag and returned it to its home and then shoved the bag into his sleeping bag. He shoved Winger down onto the lumpy mass. "Sit there and don't move," he growled.

* * *

Gage stepped into the clearing by the railroad tracks first, holding his hand up and palms open at chest-level. Sydney followed just a couple steps behind.

"Hi there," Gage spoke cordially. "We really hate to bother you, but we got a little turned around. We're trying to find our way to wherever the library might be, possibly downtown?"

"This definitely ain't downtown," Hobie chuckled. "I'd say your ass is lost."

"Don't mind him," Newill stood and offered his hand. "Name's Newill. That's Hobie and Winger and Crystal," he introduced the rest of the group.

"'Sup?" Crystal barely lifted her head in acknowledgement. Hobie and Winger both nodded hellos.

"He's right, though," Newill said. You're not anywhere near downtown. You're welcome to join us and we'll see if we can't get you straightened out and on your way. Hobie was just headed out to get us some food."

"I'm Gage and this is Sydney." Gage took in the group. One young man with long, curly black hair and an old army jacket, one man who looked to be in his thirties with a blond buzz cut and a worn AC/DC concert t-shirt, another younger man with brown hair and a black t-shirt, and a girl in her twenties with dreadlocks, dressed in all black and combat boots. At one time, her hair had been dyed purple as the ends of the dreads were still tinted a brilliant shade of violet.

"Well, welcome to our happy home," Hobie remarked. "I'm going on a pizza and beer run. You in?" he held out his hand for a contribution for the food and drink.

"As good as that sounds, buddy, we're going to have to pass. Someone stole our bag and all our cash was in it. We don't have any money."

"It's cool, Hobie," Newill said, pulling a few bills from his pocket. "I'll cover them. Go get us some lunch."

* * *

When Hobie returned with the food, the group gathered around to eat. Both Sydney and Gage thought nothing tasted finer than the pizza, wings, and beer that Hobie had brought back from a nearby pizzeria and six-pack shop.

"So why are you looking for the library?" Crystal asked. "Are you a couple of nerds or something?" The remark elicited laughs from Hobie and Winger.

"Like I said," Gage began, "Our stuff was stolen. We thought we'd try using the computers at the library to email a friend to see if she can help us get home. We're kind of stranded."

"Where's home?" Newill asked.

"Dallas." Sydney replied.

"How the hell'd you end up here?" Winger asked.

"It's a really long story," Gage answered. "We were on a bit of a road trip, had some car trouble in the middle of nowhere, and have been trying to find our way back to civilization to rent a car or get on a bus to get home. We were just about there when we woke up this morning and our bag with all our cash and cards was gone."

"Well, man, that sucks," Hobie said. "Life sure has a way of kicking you when you're down."

Neither Sydney nor Gage saw the look Newill shot Hobie, or the menacing look Hobie gave Newill in return.

"What about all of you?" Sydney asked. "What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting to catch out," Winger said.

"Catch out?" Sydney asked slowly, making sure she heard correctly.

"We're waiting for a train to come through. We're going to ride it to California," Newill explained.

"I take it you don't mean Amtrak," Gage said.

"Nope."

"That's illegal," Gage remarked.

"Only if you get caught," Hobie cracked.

"Why in the world –" Sydney began.

"I found my great-grandfather's journal years ago. Back in the Depression, he used to ride the rails looking for work," Newill began.

"Your great-grandpap was a hobo," Crystal deadpanned.

"Whatever," Newill continued. "He wrote about his life and it sounded like such an amazing adventure that I decided that one day I'd like to give it a try. One day, I was standing at a train crossing and a train was stopped. I climbed on and rode to the next stop. I hitchhiked back home thinking the whole time about what I did. I did some research, learned a little about the railway system, bought some gear and hit the rails. And here I am. I've seen a lot of the country just by hopping freight trains, parts of the country that most people never get to see. It's amazing. Someday I'm going to write a book about all this, put my great-grandpap's stories and my stories in it, and my pictures, too," he motioned to a camera bag by his feet.

"But your family, don't they worry about you?" Sydney asked

"My mom passed on years ago, and my dad's usually so drunk he couldn't tell you what day it is, let alone remember he has a son," Newill replied.

"What about the rest of you?" Gage asked, nodding toward Hobie and Winger.

"I just do this for fun," Hobie said. "When I get tired of working or get fired from a job, I go hop a train. Winger comes with me every now and then. We just happen to cross paths with Newill sometimes and ride with him because he has the technology to tell us where the trains are."

Newill held up a hand-held radio. "Yeah, I listen in with this scanner. I know where the trains are and where they're going."

"How did you get into doing this?" Sydney asked Crystal.

"She's got the hots for Newill," Hobie laughed.

"Shut up, you asshole!" Crystal yelled, throwing her empty beer can at him.

"I always thought she had the hots for you," Winger told Hobie.

"You're an asshole, too. You're all assholes." Crystal got up and walked to the edge of the clearing.

"She just turned up one day and asked where I was going and asked if she could go along," Newill said. "She doesn't say much. I don't know if she's a runaway or what. That's one thing about life out here. We don't ask. I just do my best to keep an eye on her. She's like a little sister."

"Maybe I should talk to her," Sydney said. Something about Crystal filled her with worry.

"Nah. She's okay. She's just not real talkative. She'll be back in a few minutes," Newill said. He was right. In a few minutes, Crystal came back and sat down, helping herself to another slice of pizza and cracking open another can of beer. Sydney resisted the urge to press her and ask if everything was okay, lest she have another outburst.

"So, where did you say you were trying to get to?" Newill asked Gage.

"Dallas."

"You know, there's an intermodal leaving out of here later this evening, heading south to El Paso. It'll at least get you into Texas."

"A what?" Gage asked.

"An intermodal. Instead of boxcars, it's a train with shipping containers."

"Oh. Yeah, I've seen those."

"You can catch out on it. A lot of the intermodal cars have a little well in front of where the containers sit that make a good place to hunker down and ride."

"Wait, you're telling me we can ride one of those trains to El Paso?" Gage asked.

"Sure! You're in a bind and you need a way home. I'm giving you a free and easy option," Newill replied. "We do it all the time."

* * *

Sydney sat silently, listening to the conversation between Gage and Newill. She edged closer to Gage, and when Newill and Hobie started talking about something else, she poked Gage in the ribs.

"You can't even be considering this ridiculous idea, Francis Gage," she hissed into his ear. "There is no way I'm getting on a damn freight train like some hobo. How the hell do we know where that train is going?"

"El Paso, Syd," Gage whispered back. "Company E. All we have to do is get to El Paso and get to the Company E headquarters. That's where we were supposed to go in the first place before this whole suspect transport thing turned into a mess. We can get back to Dallas from there. "

"Hopping trains is dangerous, Gage, and not only that, it's illegal."

"Yes, and yes. But do you have any other ideas? We're running out of options fast, Syd. We don't have any way to rent a car, it's almost impossible to find a pay phone to make even a collect call, and it's a hell of a long walk to Dallas from here."

"Gage, we've done some crazy things these last few days, but this has to be the absolute craziest." Sydney shook her head in disbelief.

"So you're in?" Gage asked, flashing a smile.

"Do I have a choice?" Sydney asked.

There was that boyish grin again, and the butterflies in Sydney's stomach. "Syd, I promised you I'd get you home, and if I had my choice, it would be first class all the way. This is the best I can do. I can't promise it'll be a luxury trip, but I can promise you I'll do my best to keep you safe. It'll be okay. And before you know it, Shorty, we'll be at our desks looking back on these last few days and laughing about them."

"I don't know if I'll laugh about this, but if you're in, I am too." Sydney hoped she wouldn't regret those words.

"Hey Newill?" Gage asked, "Just how do we go about this train-hopping thing?"

* * *

Sharon Felder. That was the name of the blond at Rowdy's who said she knew Johnny Leftall. The bartender said she was a regular there and had been for as long as he could remember. Nobody at Rowdy's saw anything suspicious, though. That was what Walker and Trivette had learned from questioning the bar patrons after Ms. Felder turned up dead in the ladies' room.

"Odd, isn't it?" Trivette mused as he and Walker walked through the parking lot. "Nobody saw a thing."

"Yeah," Walker replied. "That's usually how it works. But somebody in that bar knows something, and somebody in that bar didn't want Sharon Felder telling us anything about Johnny Leftall."

As they approached Walker's truck, Walker noticed a piece of paper stuck under the wiper blade. He pulled it off the windshield to find it was the picture of Johnny Leftall that he showed to the bartender and Sharon Felder. He turned it over to look at it. On the back, there was a note: _I'll tell u everything u need to know. Meet me at the old Las Palomas mall, 9 PM tonite. The service entrance._

"Who do you think left that?" Trivette asked.

"No idea," Walker replied. "But we're going to Las Palomas tonight to find out."


	10. Chapter 10

"So the train is pulling out around 9. You want to get down to the yard a little before then, but not too long before then," Newill advised. "You gotta watch out for the bull."

"The bull?" Sydney asked.

"Train yard security." Newill explained.

"Oh," Sydney looked worried.

"Don't worry," Newill said. "Once the train is moving, it's smooth sailing. Although, you might want to lay low when you get down around the border. Border security tends to keep an eye on trains going by."

Gage nodded. "Anything else we need to keep in mind?"

"The yard here is small. You won't have any trouble getting to the train. But when you get off in El Paso, you're going to have to hustle and pay attention. El Paso is a huge yard, there could be any number of other trains moving through. And if the train stops at any time while you're on your way to El Paso, get off. Get off and hide," Newill advised.

"Why?" Gage asked.

"No telling why they stopped the train, but usually it's for an inspection. You don't want them to find you on it. Just get off and hide. And be careful, okay? I wish I could do more for you. It would be better if we were traveling the same direction, I could teach you the ropes. But El Paso isn't far. You should be okay."

"You still sure about this?" Gage asked Sydney.

"As sure as I can be for not having a choice," Sydney replied. "But I trust you. Let's go home."

* * *

Walker steered the Dodge truck into the parking lot of the long-defunct Las Palomas mall. Dodging potholes in the crumbling asphalt lot, he drove around the abandoned property until he saw a sign for the service entrance. A small blue car was parked at the far end of the lot.

Walker and Trivette exited the truck with guns drawn and walked cautiously toward the building.

"Anyone there?" Walker called out. "Hello?"

A figure stepped out of the shadows. "It's okay, you don't need the guns. I'm not armed, and there's nobody else here." Walker recognized the person as the bartender from Rowdy's.

"We got your note," Trivette said. "Who are you and what do you want to tell us?"

"I'm Rocco. Rocco Lipari. Been tending bar at Rowdy's for years. I gotta tell you guys, I've seen a lot of shit go down in that place, but I ain't never seen shit like what went down today. Sharon may not have been a saint; hell, none of us are, but she didn't deserve what happened to her. Nobody deserves to die like that."

"Do you know who might have done it?" Walker asked. "Anyone who might have been hanging around the bar and bothering her? An ex-boyfriend or an ex-husband, maybe?"

"No, no, nobody like that. But I'd bet the farm that whoever did it has something to do with the guy in that picture you had."

"Johnny Leftall?"

"I didn't know his name, but he used to come in all the time, and then he quit. He was one of Sharon's recruits."

"Recruits?" Walker asked.

"Yeah. She used to recruit guys to run drugs for the chief."

"The Chief?" Trivette asked. "Who's that?"

"He's only the most powerful man in west Texas and eastern New Mexico. He's into everything. Running drugs, extortion, money laundering, pimping girls, you name it, he's got his fingers in it."

"Do you know who this Chief is?" Walker asked.

"Not personally," Rocco replied, "but I have my suspicions. I think he's some kind of detective or police chief or something like that. Big time, maybe. Maybe not. But a couple of his runners got busted and then came in the bar bragging about how the chief had the pull to get them off. And this deputy from New Mexico used to come in all the time to see Sharon. I thought maybe he was a boyfriend, but one night she was drunk and they got into it and she got a little loud and I heard her tell him to go tell the chief she wasn't going. I think he used to take her to meet the chief."

"Was this deputy there today?" Walker asked.

"No, he hasn't been around in a few days," Rocco replied.

"Can you describe him, maybe come in so we can do a composite sketch of him?" Trivette asked.

"Oh, I can describe him, but I ain't goin' anywhere but into hiding. I'm telling you everything I know and gettin' the hell outta Dodge. I ain't ending up with my throat slit." Rocco told the men what the deputy looked like and Trivette made notes.

"We can offer protection," Walker stated.

"Nope. I appreciate it, but I gotta disappear. Gotta save my neck. Literally."

"Is there anything else we should know?" Trivette asked.

"I can't think of anything." Rocco glanced around nervously and looked at his watch. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Trivette handed him a card. "If you can think of anything that might help, give us a call."

"Yeah. I can't promise I'm gonna do that. Like I said, I gotta disappear. But if I can, I will. Just try to find out who offed Sharon. She didn't deserve what she got."

"We'll find them," Walker said flatly.

"And watch out for the chief. He's a bad motherfucker, whoever he is." With that, Rocco Lipari disappeared into the shadows of the empty building.

"Who's this Chief he was talking about?" Trivette asked after Rocco left.

"I don't know, but I have a few suspicions," Walker replied. "Let's go see what the police found on the security camera at Rowdy's and then I think we need to do a little digging on Patrick Ortiz and Sheriff Pickford."

"Pickford?" Trivette asked.

"He said whoever got those guys off had some kind of legal pull, and it seems like everywhere we've turned in this Johnny Leftall case, Pickford is there. It just feels odd to me," Walker answered. "I'm going to have Lucas and Morelli take a look at him. Maybe we should see who his deputy is, too."

* * *

Sydney, Gage, and Newill huddled in a cluster of weeds just along the edge of the railyard. Night was approaching and they were giving their eyes time to adjust to the fading light and waiting for the railyard security guard to move along so they could get closer to the train idling on the far set of tracks.

"That's it," Newill said, pointing to the Union Pacific locomotive at the head of a long string of cars holding freight containers stacked two high. "That's the one you want. Remember to find a car with the well at the front of where the containers sit. You can crawl down in that well. It's not a real big space, but it'll be plenty big for both of you. And here, this should help you out." Newill handed Gage a canvas bag.

Gage looked in the bag and saw the contents - the blanket that was the last of his and Sydney's belongings and some food and bottles of water that Newill had generously provided – "That ought to get you to El Paso," Newill smiled and held up his hand as Gage started to protest. "No, no, I'm happy to help you out. We've all been there before, and I'm happy to help. You just worry about getting on that train and staying safe."

Gage held out his hand to give Newill's hand a firm shake. "Thank you, man. You don't know what this means to us. I'll be happy to pay you back. If you ever get to Dallas, you come find us."

"I'll do that."

Gage looked over the string of cars about seventy-five yards away from them while Newill fiddled with the dial on the handheld scanner that allowed him to listen in on train activity. A voice rattled off a string of numbers through the static.

"Got one coming in, not our westbound to California, though. I hope it didn't get canceled or re-routed. Hobie will lose his mind," Newill remarked.

The train sounded its horn, its loud blast almost deafening at their close proximity to the tracks.

"Shit!" Newill yelled "Shit! It's pulling out! It wasn't supposed to leave for another half-hour! Go! Go!" he ordered, shoving Gage to his feet and pushing him toward the train.

"Go!" Newill yelled again as Gage pulled Sydney up behind him and took off at a run toward the tracks, slinging the canvas bag over his shoulder as he ran. The train sounded its horn again and the brakes hissed and squealed as they released. The train lurched forward and began to inch down the track, slowly gaining speed.

Gage picked his way over a siding and around an empty rail car with Sydney in tow, running toward the train that was heading south out of the railyard.

"Ouch!" Sydney cried as she stumbled over the end of a railroad tie, twisting her ankle.

"Syd! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Sydney picked herself up and gingerly tested her ankle. It hurt, but she didn't have time to waste on babying it. She hobbled along, wincing with each step, crossing a set of railroad tracks and trying to match Gage's footsteps as he ran for the nearest intermodal car.

Gage found a car with the well that Newill talked about. He ran alongside it, trying to catch the railing at the front of the car as the train picked up speed. Behind him, he could hear Sydney gasping in pain as she struggled to keep up on her sore ankle.

"Come on, Syd!" Gage called in encouragement as he reached for the railing and pulled himself up on the car's small ladder. He swung the canvas bag into the well below the freight container and climbed up, looking back to see Sydney struggling to keep pace with the train. She was almost to the railing.

"Syd, come on, you're almost there!"

The sound of a train's horn caught Gage's attention. He looked up to see another train headed their direction. The space between the tracks was so narrow that if Sydney didn't grab for the ladder in the next few seconds, she'd be sandwiched between the two trains and likely sucked under the wheels.

"Syd, come on, you gotta get on here now!"

Sydney looked up and saw the train coming toward her. She knew just how little space there was between the two sets of tracks and realized how easily she could be crushed. She tried to run faster, but her ankle was screaming at her with each step. Plus, there were more of those ends of those railroad ties sticking up and she dared not trip and fall here, not with a train coming.

"Syd!" Gage yelled again.

The oncoming train sounded its horn again. Sydney was close to the ladder and reached for it but it slipped out of her grasp. Gage noticed, and saw that Sydney was slowing down, her ankle injury was wearing on her and fatigue was winning out. He leaned down off the intermodal car and reached his hand out to Sydney.

"Syd, come on, grab my hand, I'll pull you up."

"Gage, I can't."

"Syd, you have to."

Sydney reached up, her fingertips just missing Gage's.

"Syd, the train! Grab my hand!"

"I'm trying!"

Sydney reached up again, stumbling slightly as she did.

"Damn it!" she cried as her hand slipped from Gage's grasp.

The deafening sound of the train's horn drowned out Gage's command for Sydney to grab his hand again. He leaned farther off the ladder, this time being able to grab her hand and pull as she reached for the railing. He howled in pain as he felt the stitches in his shoulder break loose as he pulled Sydney up to where he could wrap both arms around her and hold her against the side of the car. Sydney grabbed tight to the railing and kicked her feet until she found the ladder's steps just as the oncoming train passed them. She could feel the wind from the train threatening to suck her away from the car she was holding on to and she could swear she felt the train's cars brushing against the backs of her legs.

Together, they held tight for what seemed like an eternity until the train passed, and then Gage helped Sydney up the ladder where they both tumbled into the well below the stacked freight containers.

"Oh, God." Sydney cried. "Oh, God, that was close."

Gage wrapped an arm around his partner and held her head against his chest. Sydney could hear his heart pounding.

"Too close. You scared the hell out of me," he replied.

"I scared the hell out of myself! Do you think the engineer of that other train will report seeing us?" Sydney asked, her voice shaking with worry.

"I don't know. If they stop the train, I guess we'll know he did. Until then, though, we may as well make ourselves comfortable and enjoy the ride." Gage leaned back against the freight container and motioned for Sydney to sit next to him. Sydney noticed the pained wince cross Gage's face when he moved his arm.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Gage replied. "My shoulder's a little sore –"

"Let me see it," Sydney said before Gage could say anything more. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and peeled the fabric away from his shoulder. In the pale light of the crescent moon, she could see that the wound had opened again. She lightly ran her finger over where her crude stitches should have been and felt that most of them were missing. Gage saw her bite her lip and shake her head.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"The stitches didn't hold."

"I figured. I felt them give way when I pulled you onto the car," Gage said with a shrug. "It's okay though. Once we get to El Paso, I promise I'll get my shoulder looked at," he gave Sydney a smile and a wink.

"You better, because I'm not stitching that up again," Sydney pulled Gage's shirt back over his shoulder and settled in next to him, allowing herself to relax to the steady clickety-clack of the train's wheels.

"You know, you could have at least gotten us a first-class car," she joked as she rested her head on Gage's shoulder. "I think I at least deserved that much!"

* * *

"What did you find out?" Walker asked as he walked into the Company E conference room. Captain Phillips had summoned him and Trivette there for a meeting with Agents Lucas and Morelli.

"Patrick Ortiz and Johnny Leftall's bodies were found. Leftall's was found in a dumpster behind a little diner just up the street from that border patrol office in Otero County. He was shot at close range in the back of the head," Agent Morelli reported.

Walker nodded. That matched what Gage said happened to him. "And Ortiz?"

"Found him behind a building at a rest area along the highway. Drug overdose. Strange thing is, the syringe was in his pocket and didn't have his prints on it. Looks like somebody shot him up and planted a syringe to make it look like he did it himself. Didn't do a very good job of creating the crime scene."

"And of course, there are no security cameras at the rest area," Trivette said.

"Of course not. But there are security cameras at Ortiz's neighbor's house." Agent Lucas replied with a smile. "Take a look at this." He punched up some video footage on his laptop that showed a man dragging a body from the back door of what Walker and Trivette guessed was Patrick Ortiz's home.

"Wait a second," Trivette waved his hand. "Run that back." He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped through a few pages. He read what he had written and looked at the screen. "That man, he fits the description of the deputy Rocco Lipari told us about!"

"Who is Rocco Lipari?" Captain Phillips asked.

Walker filled the men in on the meeting with Rocco after Sharon Felder was found murdered in the ladies' room of Rowdy's bar.

"Well that's certainly interesting," Captain Phillips remarked.

"We've been looking into Pickford," Agent Lucas said. "Because his name turned up in our investigation into Ortiz's death."

"Pickford's like a bad penny," Trivette cracked.

"You're not kidding," Lucas continued. "Ortiz had a serious drug problem years back. He had to resign as DA and go into rehab. He comes out of rehab clean and sober, runs for re-election and wins. Turns out Pickford was really pushing for him. Donated some serious money to his campaign, the works. There was a bit of controversy over the election. Some people think it was fixed, Ortiz's opponent demanded a recount, but suddenly conceded and went away quietly, never to be heard from again."

"That's odd," Walker mused.

"You're damn right it is. And just where does a sheriff like Pickford get the big bucks to donate to a campaign like that? He isn't making a ton of money and he sure didn't marry into it," Lucas remarked.

"We need to check out his deputy and do some more looking at Pickford. Any more information on that border patrol office?" Walker asked.

"We have guys going over it with a fine-toothed comb as we speak," Morelli reported.

"All right. I think it's time we pay Pickford a surprise visit." Walker stood and gathered his hat. Trivette and the other men followed. "See you in New Mexico," Walker nodded to his colleagues.

* * *

"Are Prince Charming and his lady friend gone?" Hobie cracked when Newill returned to the campsite.

"I think so. The train left earlier than it was supposed to. I hope they got on okay," Newill replied.

"Couple of noobs. They'll be lucky if they don't fall off," Winger laughed.

"Hey now. You were a noob not too long ago yourself," Newill reminded the young man. "And quite honestly, you're lucky you manage not to fall off a train every day." Newill turned his attention back to Hobie. "Where've you been?"

"We needed more beer."

"I see that." Newill eyed the growing pile of empties.

"And look what I just happened to find taped to the register at the six-pack shop." Hobie pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolded it. It was a photocopy of a composite sketch with a promise of a reward of ten-thousand dollars to anyone with information that led to the capture of the woman in the picture.

"That's her. I saw this picture and couldn't believe my luck. I'm calling." Hobie announced.

Newill looked over the picture. It certainly did look like Sydney, the woman that just caught out with Gage on the train headed to El Paso.

"Are you sure, man? Because this woman has long hair. Sydney's hair was short." Newill pointed out.

"Man, you are so fucking lame. She could have cut her hair off. Hell, she could dye it purple –"

"'Scuse you." Crystal spoke up over her can of beer.

"Sorry, Crys. No offense. But it's the same fucking woman! I bet if we find her driver's license in that bag, it'll match this picture." Hobie's voice rose with both anger and excitement. "Winger, look for her license." Hobie pointed to Winger and then the lump in his sleeping bag that was the stolen go-bag.

Winger looked up from the paper. "It says she's wanted for attempted murder. I knew she was probably an honest-to-shit serial killer. I bet she killed a Texas Ranger."

"No, Winger, she _is_ a Texas Ranger, and Hobie, you're not calling her in. You know the code out here," Newill's voice was firm, as if he were reprimanding a toddler.

"Sorry, Newill, but ten grand is ten grand. You know how long I can ride around the rails on that? Shit. I could give up work for a year or more. "

"Hobie."

"The fuck, Newill? Who died and made you the fucking king? I'm calling." Hobie stood and leaned menacingly over Newill.

"Yeah, he's calling, Newill," Winger chimed in. "Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. You're gonna share that, aren't you Hobe?"

"The fuck I am," Hobie snarled. "You want part of it, you should have gone on the beer run instead of sitting here making puppy eyes at Crystal."

Winger looked like he had been kicked in the gut. "Oh." After a few minutes he spoke up. "Well I still think you should call. I mean, what if she is a serial killer. You could be famous for putting her in jail. You never know."

Hobie looked at Crystal. "What do you think?"

Crystal tugged on the end of one of her purple-tipped dreadlocks and twisted it around her finger.

"I didn't like her anyhow," she replied.


	11. Chapter 11

"How's your ankle?" Gage asked, noticing Sydney rubbing at her foot through her boot as the train rolled steadily through the still New Mexico night. For the first night in a few days, the sky was clear and brightly illuminated by a crescent moon and what seemed like a million stars.

"It hurts," Sydney replied.

"Maybe I should look at it?"

"No. It's swelled up and there's no way I can get my boot off now. And if do manage to get it off, it's not going back on. I can wait 'til we get to El Paso. When you get that shoulder looked at, I'll get my ankle looked at, too," Sydney said.

"Promise?" Gage asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Only if you promise to get that shoulder taken care of."

"You sure make it tough on a guy, you know that?"

"Only keeping an eye out for you," Sydney said with a smile. She settled back against the freight container next to Gage and allowed her mind to drift. It had been a rough few days, she thought, but she almost felt sad they would be over soon. She had finally come to realize what Gage had meant when she had brought up his remark about that's what partners do after she'd stitched his shoulder and he'd responded with 'it's more than that.' He was right - what was between them was far more than just being partners. There were serious feelings between them and had been for some time. She had tried to fight them, but she realized there was no fight left in her anymore. There were rules, though, and she didn't know what to do about those. She might be willing to put her career on the line for the man she had fallen in love with on an undercover assignment years ago in a filthy apartment in Brownsville, Texas, but she wasn't willing to let him lose his career over her no matter how he felt. No, maybe it was best to just let those few amazing kisses and the last several days remain cherished memories. At least she'd still get to see him every day at work. A little bit of his life was better than nothing at all, and she'd deal with the Heathers as best as she could.

But could she live with the idea of his never knowing how she felt? Sydney's heart ached at the very thought that Gage might never know that she really did love him. That the kiss at CD's the night of Alex and Walker's wedding wasn't just a celebration kiss. That when she pulled away from him mid-kiss the other day in that raggedy old shack, she wasn't rejecting him. There was so much she wanted him to know, but letting him know meant putting her heart on the line. She had an idea that he felt the same way, but there were rules, damn it, and putting their feelings out there meant having to either break the rules or ignore their feelings because of them. No, it was better to keep quiet and not complicate things that were probably already complicated enough.

"Hey," Gage broke the silence and brought Sydney out of her deep thoughts. "You still awake?"

"I'm awake."

"You're awfully quiet, Shorty. What's on your mind?"

"Just enjoying the ride," Sydney responded. "And the company."

"This is kind of fun, isn't it? Maybe Newill and those guys are really onto something."

"What? Are you thinking about hanging it up as a ranger and spending your time train-hopping now?"

"I'm not that crazy," Gage laughed. "But I think I understand a little more why they do this. There's just something about trains, some kind of freedom that you don't find anywhere else."

"I know. I was thinking of that, too," Sydney agreed. "To think of all the places these cars have been. If they could talk, the stories they could tell about what they've seen and all the places they've been. It's really romantic in a weird sort of way."

Without thinking, Sydney leaned her head against Gage's shoulder and let out a soft sigh. Gage felt himself holding his breath, afraid to move lest Sydney realized what she did. After a few moments, he eased an arm around her and gently ran his fingertips up and down her arm.

"Mmm," Sydney breathed. She was enjoying this, the closeness and sweetness of just being together, and she tilted her head up toward Gage to tell him so. As she did, his lips connected with hers in a kiss that he had intended to be very soft and gentle. He never expected Sydney to open her mouth to him or draw his lower lip between her teeth, sending shockwaves through his body. He also never expected her to move to his lap, straddling his hips so he could feel her pressing against him, her most intimate warmth radiating through her clothes, causing his own excitement to build.

"Syd," he whispered, "are you sure? You said –"

"I know what I said."

"But what about the rules?" Gage asked, perplexed.

"I don't want to think about the rules right now," Sydney purred.

Gage stroked the back of his fingers down Sydney's cheek, catching her dark eyes with his. "Syd, believe me, this is better than anything I could have ever dreamed, but I don't want you to be sorry about this."

Sydney caught his hand and brushed a kiss across his palm. Gage felt his breath catch in his throat. "I won't be sorry," she replied, curling her fingers through Gage's blond hair, pulling him close and kissing him, running her tongue lightly over his lips. The gesture sent shivers up and down Gage's spine and he responded by wrapping and arm tightly around Sydney's waist and sliding a hand under her shirt until his fingertips met satin and lace.

Once again, Gage's ocean-blue eyes locked onto Sydney's. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she replied, breathlessly aware of where his hand was. She leaned into him, pressing her lips hard to his and running her hands down his chest to find the buttons on his shirt.

Gage cupped her breast in his hand and ran his thumb over the thin fabric until he felt her nipple spring to life in response. Sydney moaned into his kiss and ran her hands over his muscular chest. Gage slid his other hand under her shirt and lifted it to reveal the pale pink lacy bra beneath. He pulled her close and kissed her along her neck until he reached her ear.

"I want to feel you against me," he whispered.

Sydney led his hand to the clasp resting just over her heart. Gage could feel her racing heartbeat as he undid the fastener and pushed the scant material away from her skin. Once again, his lips met hers as he pulled her to him, taking in all the sensations of her body against his – the velvety smoothness of her skin, the hills and valleys of her curves, the hard points of her nipples, the pounding of her heart, the heat radiating from her body. He traced his hands over her as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her.

Sydney's kisses turned into breathless sighs. All time, as far as she was concerned, had stopped the moment Gage had laid his hands on her. She threw her head back, reveling in his touch, and slowly began to roll her hips against his in a rhythm that matched the rocking of the train's slow, gentle roll along the tracks. She ran her hands down Gage's chest and over his stomach. She teased a finger along the waistband of his jeans and felt him jump slightly as she brushed over a ticklish spot. She eased herself up just enough so she could undo his belt buckle and the button and tease down the zipper of the faded Levi's and heard Gage gasp in surprise. Gage found himself completely incapable of thought as Sydney ran her fingers lightly along his length and felt him straining toward her touch.

Gage pressed Sydney hard against him and teased his tongue deep between her lips, kissing her as if she were water and he was dying of thirst. He couldn't remember ever feeling desire so deeply and he didn't have to ask to know that the feeling was completely mutual. He could tell from the way Sydney touched him, from her sighs, and from the way she responded to his touch and his kisses.

Sydney pulled his hand to the waistband of her jeans. Gage rested his hand there momentarily before breaking his kiss to whisper his concern.

"What if the train stops?" He brushed a fingertip over her lips before diving into another deep kiss.

"Maybe it won't." Sydney intertwined her fingers with his, grinding her hips hard against him.

"I want to do this right, baby. I want to be able to hold you all night and wake up with you in my arms. I promise, Syd. When we get home, I'll give you an absolutely perfect night. I'll give you a million of them. I've waited for this for so long, I just want it to be right and perfect," Gage whispered, peppering kisses along Sydney's neck and jaw as he spoke.

Sydney curled her arms around Gage's neck and pressed her forehead to his, gazing deeply into his eyes.

"I can't wait," she whispered.

* * *

Walker and Trivette entered the Otero County sheriff's office and were promptly greeted by Sheriff Pickford's secretary.

"You must be Rangers Walker and Trivette!"

"We are. Is Sheriff Pickford in?" Walker asked.

"No, no. I'm sorry, he's not. Pick's on his way over to the Las Cruces railyard. Some kind of problem over there with a couple of kids jumping on a train," she relayed apologetically. "I can let him know you were here, though, and if you'd like to stop back tomorrow, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

"Thanks, but we'll probably be headed back to Texas. If we need to talk to him, we'll give him a call," Walker replied.

As he and Trivette left the building, Walker's cell phone rang.

"Walker."

"Walker, it's Agent Lucas. We got an ID on the man in the video from Patrick Ortiz's neighbor's security camera."

"Oh?"

"Name's Will Aquilino. You're not going to believe this."

"Believe what? Walker asked.

"He's Sheriff Pickford's deputy. We've got a tail on him right now, and a couple of agents on their way to his house."

"You have an address for him?" Walker asked.

Agent Lucas passed the address on to Walker who repeated the information to Trivette. When Walker canceled the call, he relayed what Lucas had told him.

"He fit the description of the man Rocco told us about. Do you think he's the same person that was visiting Sharon Felder at the bar?" Trivette asked.

"It's too much of a coincidence for it not to be," Walker replied.

"And once again," Trivette added, "it all brings us back to Sheriff Pickford."

"I know," Walker agreed. "The feds are tailing Aquilino and checking out his house. I think we should go take a look for ourselves.

* * *

The agents at Will Aquilino's house were busily searching through rooms when Walker and Trivette arrived.

"Mind if we have a look?" Walker asked the agent that seemed to be in charge after introducing himself and Trivette.

"Go ahead," the agent nodded, "just don't touch anything."

The first thing Walker noticed was the flashing light on the answering machine. He called the agent in charge over.

"Anyone take a listen to this?" he asked.

The agent pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and pressed the 'play' button. The mechanical voice on the machine informed them that there were 3 recent messages before automatically playing them back. The first message was from a woman who sounded extremely upset.

"_Will, it's nine-thirty. You said you'd be here an hour ago. I know you're busy, but this is the second time this week you've pulled this shit and quite frankly, I am tired of it. If you expect me to sit around and wait for you, let me tell you, I have better things to do and better options waiting for me. And let me tell you, mister, if you're out screwing around on me, you'll be sorry. Call me. Better yet, don't call me. I'm done."_

Walker, Trivette, and the agent exchange amused looks.

The second message was from a man with a thick accent.

"_Aquilino, it's Hector. Been trying to call the Chief. We got a shipment coming to the office and the feds are crawling all over it. What do we do? Can he call it off or send it somewhere else? If they bring it here, it's gonna get ugly."_

"The office?" Trivette asked. "Do you think he means the border patrol office? What's going on there?"

"We have some guys down there keeping an eye on the place," the agent said. "I'll call Morelli and see what's up."

The third message caught all the men's attention:

"_Will, Hector and his guys are going to have to deal with the feds on their own. I'm not calling that truck off. Cabal is looking for that shipment. I got bigger fish to fry. We finally got a hit. I'm headed to Las Cruces. Meet me there. And move, Will. We got a train to catch."_

Walker and Trivette recognized the voice immediately. Walker pulled out his phone and punched up a number, waiting impatiently while it connected.

"Lucas, how far are we from Las Cruces?" Walker asked, passing on the information from Will Aquilino's answering machine and explaining the reason for the question.

"Farther than what they are," came the reply.

"One more question then, how fast can you get me a chopper?"

"Give me two minutes to make a phone call, Walker, and we'll be on our way to meet you."

* * *

Sydney sat curled up in Gage's arms in the well of the intermodal car, the train's steady rhythm lulling her nearly to sleep. She couldn't remember a time she felt more content. Although neither of them had come out and said the words, she was pretty sure that the feelings she had for her partner were mutual. Now it was just a matter of dealing with them once they got back home. Sydney was well aware of how things might, and very well could, change between her and Gage; but for now she was happy to be wrapped in his arms and thinking hopeful thoughts of what might be.

Gage held Sydney's hand, comparing its small size to his larger hand. Periodically, he'd stroke or kiss her hair, still somewhat in shock at how she had crawled onto his lap and taken control. He'd had fantasies about his partner – hell, any red-blooded man would have, had they seen her? – but none of them had involved her taking charge of him like that and he liked it. He liked it and he hoped for more of it. Gage closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the steel shipping container, replaying his favorite moments from earlier.

The sound of a helicopter drew Sydney out of her doze. She nudged Gage to see if he was awake.

"That chopper seems awfully low, doesn't it?"

Gage looked up at it as it flew overhead. "It does. Fort Bliss is right outside of El Paso. We must be getting close. Although, that didn't look like a military chopper."

"It could be a MedEvac chopper," Sydney offered. "Maybe there's an accident up ahead."

"Could be." Gage started paying attention to the train's rhythm on the tracks. "Syd, does it feel like the train is slowing down?"

"We could be coming up on a town or a crossing. Trains have to slow down within city limits."

The train's brakes squealed as the train began to slow noticeably.

"Newill said if the train stopped, we need to get off," Sydney reminded Gage.

Gage leaned over the side of the car to look around. There wasn't much to see. "Let's just see what happens," Gage said, not anxious to get off the train in the middle of nowhere and then having to worry about getting back on or finding another way back to Texas. "Maybe it's just a crossing or town and we'll speed up again."

Instead of speeding up, the train continued to slow and steadily ground to a halt.

"Shit," Gage hissed. "We're on a bridge."

"Now what?" Sydney asked.

Gage leaned over the side of the car again to look. "Not only are we on a bridge, we're right in the middle of it. There's not much clearance on either side, and there's nowhere to go to hide."

"So what do we do?" Sydney questioned.

"We may be better off to just stay put –"

The unmistakable sound of two gunshots shattered the still night air.

"Did you hear that?" Sydney asked.

"I heard it."

"Since when do train engineers carry guns?" she asked.

"I never knew they did."

"Welcome to the wild west," Sydney remarked flatly.

After several moments of quiet, another gunshot broke the silence. Sydney and Gage both reached for the guns in the holsters they wore on their hips.

"Something's not right," Gage said. "How much ammo do you have?"

"Not much," Sydney replied. "All our spare ammo was in our go-bag."

"We're just going to have to be extra-sure of where we're shooting," Gage said.

"And who we're shooting at," Sydney added.

* * *

The chopper landed just ahead of where the train stopped. Walker, Trivette, and Agent Lucas jumped out and ran toward the train as the first two gunshots rang out. Crouching down, and with guns drawn, they approached the train's lead engine. Walker motioned for Trivette and Lucas to cover him while he climbed aboard. With his back pressed against the side of the engine, he silently made his way to the open door, stopping when he heard the familiar voice from Will Aquilino's answering machine.

"I'm disappointed in you, Will. I thought I trained you better than that."

"I don't understand," came a second voice.

"Ortiz. You got sloppy. You know the feds got you on camera hauling his dead ass out of his house, don't you?"

"How?"

"His fucking neighbor's fucking security camera, that's how. Didn't you think to check for shit like that?"

"I never thought –"

"And you were supposed to make it look like an overdose."

"I did –"

"The hell you did. What kind of fucking idiot junkie OD's and puts the fucking syringe in his shirt pocket with no fucking prints on it? You fucked up, Will. Made it look like an amateur job and the feds are all over that shit. They know Ortiz was murdered, and they know you did it. They've been all over your house like ugly on your sister."

"They can't do that, they need a warrant!"

"Who says they don't have one? And they're the fucking feds, Will. You think they care? Bottom line is, you just jeopardized the whole operation. They busted Hector and intercepted the shipment. Cabal is going to have my balls, Will. He's gonna slit my throat for sure this time."

"No, no, please don't. I promise, I won't screw up again. I'll fix it. I'll go get the next shipment and take it to Cabal myself. I'll make it right. I'm sorry, boss. I promise I'll –"

Will's pleading was silenced as one more gunshot rang out, echoing in the night's eerie stillness.

Walker stepped through the engine's open door with his gun drawn.

"Good evening, Sheriff Pickford, or should I say, Chief."


	12. Chapter 12

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheriff Pickford looked startled to see Walker enter the locomotive's control area, stepping over the body of the secondman as he did. The body of the engineer and Will Aquilino's body were both slumped on the floor in the middle of the stopped engine.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I heard everything. You're under arrest, Pickford."

Wallace Pickford laughed. "Aren't you you a little out of your jurisdiction, Ranger?"

"Should have stopped the train sooner, Chief," Walker replied. "Welcome to Texas."

Pickford turned and leveled his gun at Walker, taking aim. Before he could pull the trigger, Walker fired his own gun, shooting the pistol out of Pickford's grasp. Pickford howled like a wounded animal and clutched at his hand. He lunged at Walker, who easily sidestepped him in the train engine's cramped quarters and then landed an elbow the back of Pickford's neck. Pickford shook off the blow and turned to charge at Walker like an angry bull. Walker grabbed the stocky man and threw him against the control board, momentarily winding the sheriff only for him to charge at Walker again. The men struggled and scrambled, tumbling out of the engine's door and onto the ground next to the tracks, exchanging punches and kicks. Walker finally subdued the sheriff with a roundhouse kick that knocked the man known as the Chief to the ground where Walker was finally able to handcuff him.

"Now, where are my rangers at, Pickford?" he snarled

"I told you, Walker, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. Rangers Gage and Cooke, Pickford. Where are they?"

The sound of gunshots rang out from farther back along the train.

"Well, Walker, with any luck, they're both dead now."

* * *

The fourth gunshot broke the tense silence, causing Sydney and Gage to both jump and point their own guns into the darkness.

"What the hell is going on?" Sydney asked, even though she knew her partner had just as little idea as she did.

"I don't know. Should we try to get to the front of the train and find out?" Gage replied.

Sudden gunshots answered their question. The pair ducked into the well of the intermodal car for shelter as they tried to determine where the shots came from.

"I guess not," Gage said, peering over the edge of the car into the darkness. Another shot pinged off the side of the freight container behind him.

"Jesus!" Gage hissed. "Where the hell are they?"

"Up there!" Sydney pointed her gun toward the top of the stack of freight containers on the car in front of them and fired. The dark figure that had been crouched down on the top container tumbled off and landed with a sickening thud against the steel of the railroad bridge on which they were parked.

"Nice shot, Shorty," Gage praised.

"Keep your eyes open," Sydney reminded him. "He won't be the only one."

From ahead of them, they could hear footsteps on metal, the sound of somebody running along the top of the freight containers in the cars in front of them.

"Someone's coming," Gage warned. "Keep watching." He motioned toward the car in front of them.

Sydney nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the top of the freight container in front of them. Gage eased up enough to look over the side of the car and up and down each side of the train.

"There's somebody back there with a flashlight, they're coming this way. Check your side."

Sydney moved to check her side of the train just as more shots rang out from in front of them. Gage shot back, wounding but not killing one of the shooters. Sydney shot toward the back of the train at a figure climbing onto the double-stacked freight containers behind them.

"There's someone getting on the train behind us, Gage. If they get on these containers and get above us, we'll never see them."

"Shit! We'll be sitting ducks. We have to get off of here, Syd."

"Where are we going?" Sydney asked.

"We'll stay right along the train cars and see if we can work our way to the front, at least work our way off this bridge to where we can take cover. We can't stay here, though. Go on, I'll cover you," Gage motioned for Sydney to climb off the train as the first footsteps began to echo on the freight containers behind them. Keeping his gun pointed toward the top of the container, Gage followed Sydney down the ladder and off the car. He had just stepped onto the bridge's infrastructure when another volley of gunshots rang out.

Sydney flattened herself against the car and shot toward the back of the car while Gage did the same, shooting toward the front. At the same time, they each eased as quickly as they could toward the front of the train. Sydney's gun ran out of ammunition first. Gage pushed her between his body and the side of the train car to protect her, firing shots until he, too ran out of ammunition.

"Go, keep moving!" Gage commanded, pushing Sydney along. Sydney winced in pain as her swollen ankle protested each step, but she kept going until a dark figure stepped onto the bridge ahead of them.

"Gage!" Sydney didn't have to say anything more. He already saw the man ahead of him raise his gun to fire. He pulled Sydney down with him, landing hard on the railroad trestle, and thanking God for the steel mesh framework that enclosed it and kept them from dropping into the darkness below.

"The other way," Gage ordered, pulling Sydney to her feet and pushing her to the back of the train only to find another dark figure coming toward them in that direction.

"We don't have a choice, Syd, we're going to have to jump."

"What? Are you kidding?"

"I wish I wasn't."

"What's down there?"

"Pretty sure it's the Rio Grande."

"How deep?"

"With all the rainstorms the last few days, I'd say it's deep enough to jump into. You can swim, right?"

"If I have to."

"You're going to have to, Syd." Another shot rang out from ahead of them. Gage flinched and pressed Sydney between him and the train car. He looked up and down the track and then at the freight car above them. Not seeing anyone at the moment, he pulled Sydney with him to the edge of the bridge.

"We don't have a choice, Syd."

Sydney looked up at him, her dark eyes wide. Gage took her hand and held it tight between both of his.

"I got you. I promise, I won't let go," he said, leaning over to brush a quick kiss over Sydney's forehead. "On three?" he asked.

Sydney looked down at the black water below them and nodded.

"One, two -" Gage jumped, pulling Sydney with him just as another gunshot rang out from behind them.

* * *

Trivette listened as gunshots sounded along the stalled train.

"It sounds like a war back there," he said, his own gun drawn and his eyes scanning the length of the train.

"Who's back there?" Agent Lucas wondered aloud as he, too, held his gun at the ready and watched for any sign of danger.

Walker suddenly appeared behind them. "I think Syd and Gage are on this train. We need to find them."

"What about Pickford?" Trivette asked.

"Pickford's the chief. He just killed Will Aquilino. He's not going anywhere, though." Walker had left Pickford handcuffed to a railing on the side of the train's lead engine.

"Wow," Trivette breathed as more gunshots rang out.

"Any idea how many of them are back there?" Walker asked.

"Not a clue," Agent Lucas replied as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He quickly dialed and waited.

"Morelli, we're going to need backup. All the firepower you can find us," he relayed their location and cancelled the call. "Morelli's sending in the cavalry. We'll have help here in a few minutes."

"Thanks," Walker clapped the agent on the back. "Let's see if we can find Syd and Gage." He led the way along the row of idled train cars with his gun pulled and ready, his eyes sharp. Trivette and Lucas followed his lead on the other side of the train with guns drawn, paying close attention to any movement in the darkness.

Ahead of them, Walker could see somebody running along the top of a freight container.

"Texas Ranger, freeze!" he yelled.

The figure turned toward him and fired. Walker fired back. The two exchanged gunfire and the figure dropped out of sight, only to appear out of the darkness between two intermodal cars. Walker fired and the figure dropped to the ground, lifeless.

Hearing more gunshots farther back along the train, Walker motioned to Trivette and Agent Lucas to go and investigate while he climbed atop the stacked freight containers to see what he could see from that vantage point.

From the high point on top of the intermodal car, Walker could see somebody kneeling on top of the second car back from him. He quickly climbed down and stealthily ran two cars back, climbing silently to the top of the stacked containers. He crept up to the kneeling figure and and caught him in a headlock.

"Looking for somebody?" Walker asked as the man struggled momentarily before lapsing into unconsciousness. Walker kicked the man's gun over the side of the containers before climbing back down to the ground and moving silently along to the next car.

* * *

Sydney lost her grip on Gage's hand when she hit the water. She didn't know what to expect when she hit, all she knew was that when she felt the water rushing over her head it felt like she was being sucked down fifty feet under its deep, dark murkiness until she felt her feet touch bottom. In truth, the water had only been about fifteen feet deep where they had jumped but that didn't matter to Sydney. All that mattered was getting out of the water and getting air back into her lungs. She pushed off the rocky river bottom and fought her way back up, gasping for air once she cleared the water's surface.

"Gage?" she called out. "Gage?" She looked around for her partner and saw and heard nothing.

"Oh no," she whispered, feeling her heart sink. Treading water, she looked around, trying to get a handle on her surroundings. The current had carried her past the railroad bridge, and she could still hear faint gunshots. What was going on back there? she wondered. Just ahead, there were lights along the riverbank for what looked to be some kind of plant or refinery. Knowing that was her best and safest bet right now, she swam toward them.

"Syd? Syd! Are you okay?" Gage called. It was hard to tell what direction his voice was coming from.

"I'm okay! I'm over here!" she called back.

"Syd, where are you?"

"I'm here! Here!" Sydney stopped swimming and waved her arms over her head, hoping Gage would see her.

"I see you! I'm down here!" Gage called back, and Sydney could finally see him about fifteen yards ahead of her. "Try to get down to where those lights are. Maybe we can get some help there."

Relieved, Sydney swam toward him and toward the lights along the river where she had to fight the current to get to shore. Exhausted, she dropped to her knees the moment she got out of the water.

"Gage? Gage, I'm –" Sydney called out before screaming in pain.

"Syd! Syd, what's wrong?" Gage, already out of the water and waiting for Sydney on the riverbank, ran toward her.

"My knee, oh, God, it's my whole leg. It burns. Oh, God, it burns so bad!" Sydney cried in pain as she struggled to her feet and managed to stumble a few steps before collapsing on the ground.

* * *

Trivette and Agent Lucas continued their journey along the stopped train, looking for the source of the gunshots they'd heard earlier.

"Wonder if Gage and Cooke are in one of these containers," Lucas whispered.

"I hope not," Trivette replied. "It's a hell of a long train –" His thoughts were interrupted when a black-clad, masked figured dropped down from the top of one of the freight containers and onto Agent Lucas.

Lucas responded with a loud 'oooph' when the wind was knocked out of him as he hit the ground, his gun flying. Trivette pounced on the man, putting him in a headlock and pulling him off of his colleague, giving Lucas time to catch his breath and get back on his feet. As Trivette and the first masked man struggled, a second similarly-dressed man leaped off the stack of containers and joined the fight, pulling Trivette away from his partner and landing a couple of hard punches to Trivette's jaw and stomach. Lucas was still winded from the surprise jumping but managed to land a couple of hits to distract the newcomer and allow Trivette to gain ground, throwing fists and elbows at the two masked men and tossing one against the side of the freight container. The resulting sound echoed through the otherwise still night.

The dull, metallic thud grabbed Walker's attention. He climbed atop the closest intermodal car to see if he could see anything, running along the top of the stacked containers at a brisk pace until he got to the source of the noise: Agent Lucas and Trivette were exchanging punches with a couple of dark figures. Walker watched the action for just the right moment and then leaped from the top of the containers into the fray, landing on one of the masked men. The man reached for his gun, but Walker wrenched his arm behind his back, sending him spinning into the side of the freight container. The man recovered and charged at Walker who met him with a barrage of kicks and punches. The man's partner recovered from his sudden connection with the side of the intermodal car and ran at Trivette, but was stopped once again when Lucas tackled him and pistol-whipped him, knocking him out cold.

"Nice move, Lucas!" Trivette approved. "The Cowboys could have used you back in the day."

Walker and the second man continued to battle it out as more gunshots rang out in the area of the railroad bridge some distance behind them. The sound distracted the masked man and Walker was able to drop him with a roundhouse kick and an elbow to the shoulders. Lucas quickly cuffed the men together and to the side of the rail car.

From above, the sound of another chopper filled the air.

"Finally!" Lucas exclaimed. "About time Morelli showed up to help!"

Walker and Trivette left Lucas to wait for the helicopter to land so he could brief Morelli and their backup on the situation while they went to search for Sydney and Gage, following the sound of another round of gunfire.

"I hope when we find them, Walker, that we aren't too late," Trivette's voice was grim.

Walker didn't respond.

* * *

Gage helped Sydney to her feet and tried to help her along. He wanted to get to the brightly-lit area of the plant along the river, knowing they'd likely have a security detail that could probably help them out. All he needed was for them to contact the Texas Rangers' Company E headquarters and the rangers would handle things from there. The first step Sydney tried to take, though, left her collapsed on the ground and screaming in pain once more. Gage wasn't sure what was wrong, but he knew pain like that was from something more than a sprained ankle.

"Okay, okay, Syd. I got you. It's okay," Gage soothed as he knelt to pick Sydney up in his arms and carry her to the edge of the plant's fenced-in area.

Sydney's screams quieted to whimpers, but Gage knew something was still very wrong as she was shivering violently in his arms. They were almost to the plant's fence when they were met by a security guard on a golf cart.

"Hey, what are you kids doing out here?" the guard yelled over the sound of machinery.

"We need help!" Gage yelled back as he set Sydney down on the ground and began to assess what her injuries might be.

The guard ran to them, speaking into a portable two-way radio. "What's the problem?" he asked. Then, noticing that Gage and Sydney were both soaked, "Were you two in the river?"

"We're Texas Rangers," Gage informed him, "We had some problems on that train," he" he motioned to the bridge, "and had to jump." Sydney moaned and clutched at her knee. "Do you happen to have a pocket knife?"

The guard looked at Gage with suspicion. Gage noticed a Leatherman tool on the guard's belt.

"That'll work," he said, pointing at the tool. "Can I use that for a second?"

The guard eyed Gage cautiously and slowly handed over the tool. Gage opened it to the knife blade and began to cut the leg of Sydney's jeans to above her knee, peeling the heavy, wet fabric away from her leg as he went.

"Hold your flashlight here," Gage ordered, motioning to the guard where he needed him to shine the light. Just above Sydney's knee, which was quickly swelling and turning black and blue, were two little pinprick marks.

"Oh, Jesus," Gage whispered.

The guard saw the marks as well. "Where did she come out of the river?" he asked.

"Just up there," Gage pointed, "about twenty yards up."

"Shit, man. There's a rattler's nest up there. I bet she came out right in the middle of it."

Gage looked around for a moment and then spotted the guard's belt. "Give me your belt, quick," he commanded.

The guard obeyed, and Gage fashioned a tourniquet, wrapping the belt tight around Sydney's thigh just above the bite marks. Sydney winced and cried out in pain. As she did, the guard noticed two more pinprick marks on the side of her leg just like ones above her knee. He pointed them out to Gage.

"I'll call 911," the guard told Gage.

"Gage?" Sydney's voice was weak

"Yeah, Syd?"

"I can't breathe." Sydney's breath was coming in short gasps.

"Just take it easy, Syd. You just hit the water real hard, probably hurt your leg when you did. You're going to be okay, though, I promise." Gage cradled Sydney's head in his arms, brushing kisses over her forehead. "Just relax, Shorty. We're almost home."

"Mm hmm," Sydney replied so quietly that Gage could barely hear her.

"They're on their way," the guard said, snapping his phone shut. "Meanwhile, you may want to say a few prayers, if you're the praying kind."

"Anything else we should do?" Gage asked, stroking Sydney's hair

"Pray harder."

Gage closed his eyes and whispered a silent, urgent prayer that he hoped would be heard and answered. When he opened his eyes, he realized Sydney was unconscious. He felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach as he shook Sydney by the shoulders.

"No, Syd, no. Stay with me. We're almost home, Syd. We're almost home and I never got the chance to tell you –"

The tall, blond ranger broke down, bowing his head and letting his tears fall as the wail of the ambulance's siren could be heard approaching from the distance.


	13. Chapter 13

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for the delay - I had to have surgery again on my wrist and typing has been really difficult this time around. But... I got this long-awaited chapter done! I know you all have been waiting very impatiently to find out what happens to Sydney, so here it goes... I think you'll find this chapter more than makes up for the wait. Happy reading!**_

Gage watched helplessly as the team of paramedics worked urgently over Sydney; putting an oxygen mask over her face, inserting an IV in her arm, taking vitals and calling numbers to each other in serious, ominous voices, their faces grim. They asked him questions and he answered the ones he could. He knew her age and how tall she was. How much did she weigh? She felt light as a feather when he picked her up and carried her to the brightly-lit area outside the plant, but actual numbers? He had no idea. That's okay, the medic with the dark, curly hair tucked into a messy bun told him. We can get that at the hospital. Allergies to any medications? To Latex? Gage had no idea. How about an advance directive? Gage didn't even know what that was. A living will, the same medic explained. Gage cringed at the thought. Again, he didn't know and he didn't even want to think of it. Did you see the snake that bit her? Are you sure it was a rattlesnake? No, he didn't but the security guard at the plant knew about the nest. Maybe he could help. Gage had made a personal vow to protect Sydney, both as his partner and as the woman he loved and he was letting her down on both fronts. Francis Gage had never felt so useless in all his life.

"What about you?" the medic asked.

"What? Huh?" the question brought Gage out of his thoughts.

"What about you? Are you okay?" the medic asked again.

"I'm fine. Just take care of her," Gage's tone was close to pleading.

"Your shoulder –"

"It's fine. I'm just worried about her," Gage snapped.

The medic gave Gage a gentle smile. "You can ride along with her to the hospital, and while you're there, you may as well get that shoulder looked at, too. It looks like it could use some attention." She pointed to the fresh bloodstain on Gage's shirt. On the wet fabric, it looked almost like ink.

She told me to get my shoulder looked at when we got to El Paso, he thought, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Gage could only nod as he followed the medic to the back of the ambulance. Her partner was just finishing strapping Sydney in.

"Ready to go?" the dark-haired medic asked.

"Ready," her partner replied as he rounded the side of the ambulance on his way to the driver's seat.

Gage climbed inside and took a seat next to where Sydney lay on a gurney, her face pale under the oxygen mask. He reached for her hand and held it tight as the ambulance tore toward its destination with lights flashing and siren screaming.

The dark-haired medic took Sydney's vitals one more time and made a few notes on a chart for the emergency room staff. She watched as the tall, blond man in the blood-stained shirt held the petite female patient's hand and stroked her hair, whispering to her things she couldn't hear but only imagined based on the pain in his eyes and the tenderness in his touch. She reached over and patted his knee.

"She's going to be okay."

Gage looked up at her and gave a half-hearted smile.

"U Med is an excellent hospital. They'll take great care of her. She'll be okay."

* * *

"Sir, sir, I'm sorry, but you'll need to wait here." A nurse with short blond hair stepped between Gage and the gurney Sydney was on and pushed Gage back toward the waiting room.

"But I'm with her," Gage insisted, trying to circle around the nurse and catch up with Sydney before another team of nurses and technicians pushed her out of sight.

"You can wait out here for her, Mister? Mister? What is your name? We'll be sure to keep you updated on her condition if you just wait out here," the nurse's tone went from insistent to authoritative as she continued to stand guard between the waiting room and the doorway to the emergency unit, ready to push Gage back if he moved toward her.

"It's Gage, Ranger Francis Gage. We're Texas Rangers. She is, and I am, too. She's my partner. Please, I need to be sure she's okay," Gage pleaded.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Mister - I'm sorry - Ranger Gage. Now, just have a seat and be patient. Somebody will be out to update you as soon as we know something." The nurse turned on her heel and disappeared behind the heavy doors.

Gage looked around the waiting room. Several other people were sitting on uncomfortable chairs covered in what was intended to be a cheerful blue patterned vinyl. A few watched the Weather Channel on the television mounted on the wall. A couple of them flipped through ragged magazines. The rest stared off into space, worrying and waiting. Gage sat down at the end of a row of seats, immediately drawing curious, if not cautious glances from the others in the room. A mother with two small children seated across from him gathered her kids and her belongings and immediately moved away. Gage looked around, feeling self-conscious from all the questioning eyes upon him and realized that the blood on his shirt was what was drawing all the attention. He slowly got up and crossed the room to the admittance desk.

"May I help you?" the clerk asked, looking him over with curious eyes.

"I think I need to see the doctor," Gage said, "about my shoulder."

* * *

"We've checked the whole train and didn't see any trace of them, Walker," Trivette informed his partner.

"The only thing we found was this," Agent Lucas held up a large evidence bag containing a canvas tote. "It was in the front of one of the cars. We found some shell casings, too." He held up a smaller bag.

Walker sighed. "No telling if that bag was theirs or not. And we'd have to send the shell casings to forensics for testing."

"We can do that," Captain Phillips said.

Walker nodded. "What about inside all these containers?"

"One step ahead of you," Agent Lucas replied. "Trouble is, we can't open any of these containers until we have a Union Pacific rep on site. We have a call in, we're just waiting for the rep to show up."

"How long will that be?"

"However long it takes for him to get here from Phoenix, a good six hours at least," Lucas answered apologetically.

"That's not good enough." Walker looked at the back of the nearest freight container, examining the lock on it. "Find me something to open this," he ordered.

"Walker, you just can't open –" Agent Lucas began.

"My rangers are missing and we need to find them." Walker knocked on the side of the container, motioning for everyone to be quiet. He pressed his ear to the side of the steel wall, listening carefully.

"Okay, everyone, listen up. We need to check every single container. Knock and listen. Listen carefully for any sound or movement, anything that might indicate that Sydney and Gage might be inside. Even if you think you hear something, let me know and we'll open it up and check."

"Walker! We have to wait for the Union Pacific rep!"

"Lucas, I'll deal with him when he gets here. Six hours is too long to wait. In six hours, my rangers could be dead," Walker intoned.

"I'm not doing this," Lucas said.

"Fine. Nobody's asking you. Anyone else feel the same way?" Walker asked the group of rangers and federal agents gathered around him. A few exchanged sheepish looks but nobody responded.

"Good. It's a long train. Let's get to work."

* * *

"So, how'd this happen?" the doctor asked Gage as he looked at the wound on Gage's shoulder.

"Bullet graze, about a week or so ago," Gage replied, causing the doctor to pause and look at him suspiciously.

"I'm a Texas Ranger. Getting shot at is one of the hazards of the job," Gage explained coolly.

"But a week ago?" the doctor asked.

"It's a long story."

"Mmm hmmm. It always is." The doctor went back to examining the wound. "Did you stitch this yourself?"

"No, my partner did."

"I have to say, your partner did a really good job. Your partner had some medical training?"

Gage shook his head no.

The doctor's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I'm impressed. The stitches that held are nice and even and the wound is very clean. You're very fortunate, Ranger. Wounds like this that go without treatment for as long as this one has can very easily become infected. I've seen people lose limbs from infections that set in on wounds far less than this. Just to be on the safe side, though, I'm going to clean this out, close it up, and keep you overnight so we can give you a round of IV antibiotics. While I don't think you have to worry about any kind of infection, you were in that river and that's enough to concern me. Better to be safe than sorry, the way I see it."

Gage sat patiently as the doctor cleaned the wound and stitched it closed, remembering how Sydney had taken care to clean and dress his shoulder for him and how upset she was the day he found the sewing kit and matches in their go-bag and had explained to her how to stitch the wound shut. He remembered how she hesitantly agreed and then had thrown up afterwards. He felt bad, leading her so far out of her comfort zone, but he was so grateful to her then for what she'd done and even more so now knowing that she'd probably saved his life.

He asked the nurse that came in to start his IV if she had any information about Sydney.

"I'm sorry, I can't give out any information about other patients," she replied, rubbing an alcohol-soaked cotton ball over the inside of Gage's elbow.

"She's my partner. She was bit by a rattlesnake, they brought us both in by ambulance."

"I did hear we had a snakebite victim."

"Do you know how she's doing? Can I see her? Please?"

"We're going to be moving you to a room shortly. Hold still now, this will just pinch for a second." The nurse inserted the needle into Gage's arm.

"Please." Gage grabbed for the nurse's arm, the look in his eyes begging for answers.

"I'm so sorry. I wish I could tell you. But I can tell you this. We see a lot of snakebite cases here and we are very well equipped to treat them," She punched a few buttons on the IV machine and watched as the liquid began to drip from the bag on the hook above the machine through the tubing and into Gage's arm. "She's in the very best hands here," she said before stepping out of the room.

* * *

Gage tried again once he was moved to his room and settled. Another nurse came in with a pitcher of ice water and checked his IV. Although he was pretty sure what the answer would be, he thought it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Ma'am, I'm trying to find out how my partner is doing. Her name is Sydney Cooke, she was bit by a rattlesnake. We came in at the same time."

"Your partner, you say?" The heavy-set nurse looked over the frames of her glasses at him.

"Yes. We're Texas Rangers," Gage replied.

"But you're not kin."

"No. Partners." Gage explained.

"Mmm. Right now you need to rest," the nurse fluffed the pillows on Gage's bed and arranged the blankets over him. "You rest for now."

"But about Sydney?" Gage asked again.

"Rest." The nurse replied firmly, wagging a finger at Gage.

Gage settled back against the pillows, frustrated. Spotting the phone on the bedside table, he picked up the receiver, dialed information, and requested the number for the Texas Rangers' Company E headquarters. He knew the office was closed at that hour of the night, but most of the rangers' headquarters had answering services that covered calls during their off hours. He listened to the phone ring several times before the Company E answering service picked up.

"Texas Rangers Company E" came the polite voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, I need to speak with Captain Phillips."

"I'm sorry, Captain Phillips is not in. The office is closed at this time."

"I know, but please, I need to speak with the captain. Can you please –"

"I'm sorry, the office is closed at this time, but you may leave a voicemail for -"

"No! No this is an emergency! I need to speak with Captain Phillips!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but Captain Phillips is not in. The office is closed. You'll need to leave your –"

"Ma'am, I am well aware that the office is closed. I am also aware that you can patch a call through to his cell phone. This is an emergency and I need you to put this call through to him." Gage's voice rose with frustration.

"I'm sorry? Who is this?"

Before Gage could answer, the heavy-set nurse came back to the room and saw him on the phone. "I said rest!" She pointed a finger at the phone, her voice firm.

Gage held a finger in the air, motioning for her to give him a minute. "Ma'am, I'm a Texas Ranger, Francis Gage from Company B in Dallas. Captain Phillips knows who I am; he's probably been helping Sergeant Walker look for me, so I need you to patch this call through."

The nurse stepped closer to the bed, motioning toward the phone. Gage waved her away.

"Well, sir, why didn't you say so in the first place? I'll put you through to the captain right away. Please hold."

Finally, Gage thought.

* * *

Agent Lucas leaned against the side of the train's engine, a sullen look on his face. He had thought better of Ranger Cordell Walker. He'd thought better of his own team. Yet there they all were, knocking on the sides of shipping containers and listening for the slightest sound that might indicate that Rangers Cooke and Gage might be inside and still be alive. Walker had ordered a handful of containers opened only to find nobody inside. That had only spurred everyone onward, more determined than ever to find the two missing rangers.

Captain Phillips from the Rangers' Company E headquarters walked up to Lucas. "Gonna be a hot one once that sun comes up," Phillips said, taking a swig of water from a bottle he picked up out of the supplies that the El Paso police sent.

"I guess," Lucas answered.

"Be even hotter in those freight containers."

"Yeah."

"Lucas, Walker is not doing this to be an ass and he's not doing this to complicate your shit. He's doing this because he's got two good rangers out there that he doesn't want to lose. You know what it's like to have good people. You know what it's like to have good people in trouble. You say the hell with the rules and you do what you gotta do to save them. That's what Walker's doing. Because it would be a miserable way to go, for his people to die in one of those containers, and Walker would never be able to live with himself if he knew he could have saved them and didn't."

Lucas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The captain had made a good point, several good points, actually.

"Where's he at?" Lucas asked, after several long moments of silence.

"Who, Walker? He's down there about fifty yards," Captain Phillips motioned toward the train.

Lucas started walking the direction the captain pointed. The captain gave a self-satisfied smile. He knew he could get the agent to come around. He took a long drink of water and then started in the same direction as Lucas only to be interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. He quickly answered it so the ringing wouldn't disturb the search efforts going on.

"Phillips." The captain listened as the answering service operator explained the reason for the call.

"You have who on the line? You've got to be kidding….. No, no…. Patch him through... Son, do you know how many people are looking for you right now? Where the hell are you?" The captain listened intently and then waved one of his men over.

"Where's Walker? He needs to take this call."

The man ran to get Walker, who returned with Trivette in tow.

"Good news, Walker," Captain Phillips said with a grin, "we found Gage and Cooke."

"Where at?" Walker asked as he looked around with a puzzled look on his face.

"University Medical Center, right here in El Paso." Phillips handed Walker the phone. After Walker got all the details from Gage, he canceled the call and handed the phone back to the captain.

"Captain, I have to –"

"No problem, Walker. I'll wrap things up here." Captain Phillips tossed Walker a set of keys. "It's not your truck, but it'll do. You go take care of your rangers."

* * *

Sydney sat up in the hospital bed supported by pillows, her leg wrapped in gauze bandages and propped on another pillow, an IV in her arm. Walker sat at her bedside, telling her about the encounter on the train with Sheriff Pickford.

Sydney took a sip of water and set the cup on the tray next to the bed. "Pickford shot his own deputy? Was he the one who shot Johnny Leftall, too?"

"That's what we think. The feds are working through all the details right now, but it looks like Pickford was part of a major drug operation and you and Gage happened to walk right into the middle of it."

"Damn," Sydney let out a weak sigh. She was exhausted and the thought of everything she and Gage had been through actually being organized by somebody they thought was one of the good guys was more than she cared to think of.

"Walker, did they ever figure out who the Chief was? The guy who had the news bulletin run on me?"

"That was Pickford."

Sydney shook her head. The story had more twists and turns and drama than the Mexican telenovelas her _abuelita_ liked to watch when she was a young girl.

"Wow. He really was a dirty cop."

"He certainly was. But the feds have enough on him to put him away for a long, long time."

A knock at the door halted any further conversation. A tall doctor with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses entered the room. He shook hands with Walker and turned his attention to Sydney.

"How are we feeling today?" he asked kindly.

"Good," Sydney replied. "Better than I think I was feeling when I came in, not that I remember any of that."

"You were bit by a rattlesnake, twice, in fact," the doctor stated. "Fortunately, one of the bites was likely a dry bite, meaning no venom was transmitted with the bite. The other bite, though, was not a dry bite. But thanks to the quick thinking of your friend, he realized what happened and got you here as fast as he could. We're used to snake bites here and we're prepared for them. We administered anti-venom and we've been keeping a close eye on you. So far, you've shown no signs of an allergic reaction, but your leg is pretty swollen and bruised and it'll be sore for a while. I noticed, too, that your ankle was pretty swelled up, but we didn't notice any bite marks there. Did you injure your ankle somehow?"

"I fell and probably sprained it," Sydney replied, although her mind kept going back to that one thing the doctor said: the quick thinking of your friend. Gage. He had saved her. But where was he now? She felt her stomach tying itself in knots when she realized that maybe he had gotten bitten by the snake, too, and hadn't been so lucky. All those days spent trying to get home, to get this close, she thought. Hot tears stung her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling.

"I figured," the doctor said. "We'll get you to X-ray later today to have a look at it to be sure. Meanwhile, there's somebody waiting to see you, and from what I've heard, he's been very impatient." The doctor motioned toward the door and Trivette walked in, followed by Gage, his left arm in a sling.

"Hey, Syd!" Trivette greeted her with a big smile. "Good to see you!" He leaned over and gave her a hug.

"You too, Jimmy," Sydney replied, but her eyes were fixed on her partner. He was okay! Sydney's heart soared.

Walker noticed change in the energy in the room when Gage walked in and how Sydney's face lit up like Christmas when she saw him.

"Trivette, we should go get some coffee," Walker suggested as he put his hat on and headed to the door.

"Nah, I'm good," Trivette replied.

"No, Jimmy. We need to get coffee," Walker said firmly, nodding his head toward the door and then giving Trivette a pointed look.

Trivette understood the unspoken message. "Oh. Oh, yeah. On second thought, coffee does sound like a good idea." Trivette looked sheepishly at Gage and Sydney and started to back out of the room. "I hope you two feel better soon. Coffee. Yeah. That does sound good."

Walker just shook his head as he and Trivette ducked out of the room.

* * *

Gage made sure they were gone before he crossed the room in about three steps to embrace Sydney with his good arm.

"Thank God you're okay," he whispered into her ear as he kissed her hair, her forehead and everywhere he could reach before he got to her lips.

"Me? I didn't know where you were! I was so afraid something happened to you!" Sydney replied between kisses.

"I was afraid of the same thing. Nobody would tell me anything in this place." Gage sat on the edge of the bed, holding Sydney's hand in his.

"What happened?" Sydney asked. "Last thing I remember is jumping off the bridge and trying to find you in the river."

Gage filled in all the details from Sydney's last memory forward.

"Wow," Sydney breathed when he finished. "You saved my life, Gage."

"You saved mine, too." Gage told her what the doctor said about his shoulder. "You know, he was so impressed with your stitches, he'd probably give you a job if you were interested in a career the medical field," Gage said with a smile, his bright blue eyes twinkling.

"No way," Sydney smiled back. "I had enough of that for one lifetime." She looked away for several long moments, blinking away the tears that suddenly filled her dark eyes.

"Hey, Syd, you okay? What's wrong?"

Sydney sniffled and rubbed the back of her free hand across her eyes. "I'm just so thankful for you, Gage. You saved me and I'm so grateful."  
Gage cupped Sydney's face in his hand, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "And you saved me, Syd. In so many ways, you saved me." He pulled her hand to his chest and pressed it against his heart, which was suddenly racing, then bowed his head until their lips were just a mere breath apart. "I love you Syd. I love you and I'm completely in love with you." he whispered before closing that final breath's distance and kissing her gently.

"I love you, too, Gage," Sydney replied when he broke off the kiss. Her heart was racing, too, and the tears of overwhelming gratitude that had filled her eyes moments before were now tears of sheer joy.

"What about the rules?" Gage asked.

"What about them?" Sydney asked in reply.

"We can't be together and work together. You know that."

"I'll find another job."

"Do you know what it means to be a woman and a Texas Ranger, Syd? That's a big deal! You can't quit! I won't let you! I'll get another job. I've got police force experience, I can get a job with the Dallas PD."

"What if we don't say anything and just keep working together?"

"And break the rules?" Gage looked surprised.

Sydney smiled. "Let's worry about all this later. Right now, I think it's time for another kiss, doctor's orders."

"Well, we can't ignore doctor's orders now, can we?" Gage replied with a smile before pulling Sydney close and covering her lips with kisses.


	14. Chapter 14

"Gage! What are you doing?"

Gage jumped and nearly dropped the bowl of baked beans he was taking out of the refrigerator. He turned to find Sydney balancing on her crutches in the doorway of the Walkers' kitchen.

"I was just um…. Uhhh…" Gage stumbled over his words and juggled the large glass bowl in his free hand, his left arm still in a sling.

"Those are for the cookout later!" Sydney warned.

"Well, I'm hungry now," Gage informed his partner.

"Tell me something new. You're always hungry. Alex said she was just running to the store to pick up a couple of last minute things. She should be back soon, and if she catches you eating all her food for the cookout, she'll –"

"She'll what?" Alex Cahill-Walker asked as she walked in on the scene, dropping an armload of grocery bags on the table and startling both Gage and Sydney. Both of the young rangers had been staying at the Walker ranch on Alex's insistence while they recuperated as both Gage's apartment and Sydney's house had stairs that Sydney couldn't navigate while on crutches and Gage wasn't supposed to use his left arm until he followed up with his doctor in a few weeks.

"Gage?" Alex eyed the tall blond ranger suspiciously. "What were you doing with those beans? And Sydney, what are you doing? You're supposed to have that ankle propped up."

"I wasn't doing anything," Gage replied sheepishly.

"Mmm hmm," Alex hummed, her eyebrow raised skeptically. "Quality control?" she asked, causing Gage to blush bright red. He shoved the bowl back in the refrigerator and slammed the door.

"I was only trying to protect the contents of your refrigerator," Sydney answered with a laugh, "given that I have weaponry!" She waved a crutch menacingly toward Gage while he feigned fear.

"You two," Alex laughed. "You are just too much. Lucky for you, Gage, I had to stop by CD's and Marta sent sandwiches," she dug into one of the bags on the kitchen table and produced two paper-wrapped packages. "Maybe this will hold you over until everyone gets here and Walker puts the burgers on the grill?"

Gage grinned. "I wonder if Marta knows she's my favorite person today?" he said with a wink towards Sydney.

"Careful there," Sydney waved her crutch at Gage again. "You don't want me to beat you with my crutches!"

"That's the only way you can beat me, and I have one arm tied in front of me!" Gage challenged.

"Just you wait until I'm off these things. We'll spar and we'll see who beats who!" Sydney teased back.

Alex shook her head, setting her blond curls dancing. "When did I suddenly go from having one child to having three? You two are impossible!"

* * *

As friends and colleagues arrived at the Walker ranch, the sound of laughter and the aroma of charcoal and burgers grilling filled the air. Connie Jensen arrived with her famous chocolate cake. Trivette and his fiancée Erika soon followed with Erika bringing a huge bowl of potato salad. The table of food was quickly filling and Gage's stomach was growling.

"I can't wait to try one of those burgers and some of Erika's potato salad," he said as he stood by while Walker manned the grill.

"Everything looks delicious," Walker agreed.

"Especially that chocolate cake," Gage craned his neck to get a better look at the cake Connie was cutting into pieces.

"Speaking of that," Walker handed Gage the tongs. "Keep an eye on the grill. I want to go set aside my piece of cake now."

"What for?" Gage asked.

"Because once you get to it, there might not be any left!" Walker laughed.

"Funny. Real funny." Gage groused. He was about to complain about Walker kicking a guy when he was already down and injured – why not milk that shoulder injury for all he could get out of it – when he and Walker both were distracted by a dark-colored sedan slowly pulling up to the Walkers' house.

"Who's that?" Gage asked. "I don't recognize the car."

"Me either," Walker said, his brow knitted in confusion. His look of confusion turned to recognition when the two men stepped out of the car and waved his direction.

"Lucas! Morelli!" Walker called out. "Come on over and get yourselves a burger!"

Walker left Gage in charge of the grill and went off to introduce the two FBI agents to the rest of the guests. He then brought them around to meet Gage and Sydney.

"So you two are the two rangers we searched half of New Mexico for!" Agent Lucas greeted each ranger and shook their hands.

"We thank you both for all your hard work trying to find us," Sydney said. "That was the craziest week we ever had."

"It's about to get crazier," Agent Morelli spoke up. "We found something you might be interested in." He went back to the car and returned with both of their wallets and badges.

"Where did you find those?" Gage asked.

"We picked up a guy trying to use your credit card in Las Cruces. Do you recognize this guy by any chance? His name is Shawn Hobart." Morelli showed Gage and Sydney a photograph.

"Hobie!" Gage and Sydney exclaimed at the same time.

"There was another guy with him, went by Winger. Once we took him in, he spilled his guts. Told us Hobart stole a duffel bag with all your belongings and that you came to their camp by the train yard. He also told us that Hobart called in a tip on you," Morelli nodded to Sydney. "Said he was going to get ten grand for turning you in." Morelli produced the photocopied 'wanted' sign with Sydney's picture that Hobie had taken from the six pack shop.

"So that's how they found us on the train," Sydney breathed. Suddenly everything started making sense.

By then, nearly all the other guests had gathered around and were asking questions and Sydney and Gage had a lot of questions for Lucas and Morelli.

"Maybe we should fill up some plates and start from the beginning," Gage suggested.

* * *

With everyone gathered around them at the table, Gage and Sydney began to tell their story between bites of delicious burgers and picnic food.

"It was supposed to be a routine suspect transport," Sydney said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "We thought the worst part of it was putting up with Johnny Leftall hollering about his rights the whole way to New Mexico. That man was a royal pain."

"We dropped him off and everything seemed okay, "Gage continued. "Only I forgot to ask where we could get our flat tire fixed and I had to go back into the border patrol building. That's when I saw somebody shoot Johnny, and apparently they saw me see them do it. They chased us out of town and the spare tire blew. We were stuck. Had I not gone to ask about that damn tire, we wouldn't have spent a week roaming around the desert hiding from the Chief and his henchmen."

And I wouldn't have had the most incredible week of my life with the most amazing woman in the world, he thought to himself as he caught Sydney giving him a little smile.

Sydney continued, telling how Gage had been grazed by a bullet in the shootout and how they ended up in another shootout in the truck stop diner.

"Oh, yeah," Trivette chimed in. "That one waitress really liked you, Gage. We heard all about it. She said you were bee-you-tee-full!" Trivette emphasized each syllable of the word, wiggling his eyebrows for effect. Everyone at the table laughed. "Seriously, though, how did Sydney end up wanted for attempted murder? I saw that news bulletin and about died from shock. Our Syd? Holy crap!"

"What?" Erika's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Yeah. Pretty sure that was the Chief's doing. It was after we got a ride from some guy I thought was safe. Turned out he worked for the Chief," Gage explained. "We were just trying to get out of a rainstorm. This guy –"

"Orville." Sydney interjected.

"Yeah, Orville. He picked us up and said he'd drive us to the next town. He was asking all about us and Sydney made up this story –"

"Hello, I'm Selena and this is my fiancé Curtis," Sydney launched into her story in the same thick Hispanic accent she used when they'd met up with Orville. "We're going to Las Vegas to get married. See, my daddy don't like Curtis and he won't let me marry him, so we're eloping. And I always wanted to get married by Elvis in a little white wedding chapel in Las Vegas." She leaned her head against Gage's shoulder and gazed up at him, batting her eyes furiously. The entire table erupted in laughter.

"You didn't!" Alex gasped between fits of giggles.

"She did," Gage replied.

"That's nothing! Gage told him his shoulder wound was the result of a bar fight he got into defending me," Sydney said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

"Well, Orville didn't buy it. He recognized us and said he was going to kill us. Pulled out this whopper of a knife," Gage continued the story, "We're talking a Crocodile Dundee-style hunting knife. So Syd pulls her gun and tells him to pull over. He doesn't, so next thing I know, as we're coming up on an underpass, Syd manages to mash the gas pedal and yanks the steering wheel and crashes us into the underpass. Knocked Orville out cold and we got out of there and got to this nasty little motel in Sundown. Orville must have went right to the Chief when he got his shit back together because next thing we knew, Sydney's face is on TV and these two guys are beating down every door in the place. We had to haul ass out the bathroom window."

"That explains the mess in the motel room," Walker said, nodding to Trivette.

Sydney and Gage told about finding the abandoned shack only to be found by the Chief's three goons with the ATV. They told how they used the ATV to travel to their next stopping point and how they camped out for the day in the abandoned church where Gage cut Sydney's hair.

"I was wondering when you had time to get that fabulous haircut," Erika mused. "All that time spent on the run and you look amazing." She leaned across the table to brush her fingers through the ends of Sydney's bob-length hair.

"I'm going to grow it back," Sydney said. "I only did it out of necessity. It was the one thing I could do to change my looks and keep us safe after that stupid news bulletin." She gave Gage a smile she hoped nobody else would understand.

She did that for me, Gage thought. Gage felt a strange sensation in his stomach. So that's what butterflies feel like was his next thought. Gage decided he liked the feeling and wouldn't mind if he felt that every day for the rest of his life.

"I vote for keeping it short," Erika announced. "It looks great on you."

Gage told how he'd learned the unconventional field first aid trick of using a needle and thread to stitch wounds in the service and how he had Sydney stitch his shoulder wound closed. The story was met by gasps of surprise and shock.

"I'm never doing that again," Sydney announced. "Now I know why I went into law enforcement and not medicine."

"How did the train figure into all this?" Walker asked.

Sydney and Gage told about camping out under the highway ramps and waking to find their go-bag gone. They explained how they were trying to get downtown to the library to use the computer to email Alex for help and had stumbled onto the camp and met Newill, Crystal, Hobie and Winger.

"So Hobie stole our bag," Gage mused. "You know," he turned to Sydney, "there was something about him I didn't trust from the moment we met him."

"Same here. He seemed shady," Sydney agreed.

"You didn't happen to pick up another guy and girl with him?" Gage asked Agent Morelli. He hoped not. Newill wasn't one of the bad guys, and he was sure Crystal wasn't bad either, just a troubled girl he hoped would soon find her way home.

"No. Just those two."

"You really hopped onto a train, like the hoboes did back in the day?" Connie Jensen seemed shocked and a little amused by the idea.

"It was rather fun," Gage said. "Seems there's a lot of people all over the country that do it. Newill said he got the idea from reading his grandfather's journal. He's riding around taking pictures and writing about it in his own journal. He's going to write a book contrasting his notes and his grandfather's notes. I'd love to read it one day. I bet it will be fascinating."

"It sounds like it," Alex agreed. "But how did you get Sydney to agree to the idea?"

"I had no choice," Sydney replied, "and Gage said it was a hell of a long walk to Dallas." Her response was met with laughter.

"Really, though," Sydney continued, "it wasn't bad. It was actually the best part of the trip, until all the lead started flying." She bumped Gage's knee under the table with hers and gave him that smile again.

Yes, yes it was, Gage thought, feeling the butterflies in his stomach once again.

* * *

"What I want to know," Sydney announced, "is how you found out that Sheriff Pickford was the Chief?"

Walker, Trivette and Lucas began to explain about the phone call using Company E's call analysis software, about going to Rowdy's bar where Sharon Felder was killed and what Rocco Lipari told them, and about Patrick Ortiz turning up dead and going to Will Aquilino's house where they heard the phone message. Walker told about hearing Pickford's conversation with Will on the train and how Pickford had shot Will.

From there, Agent Lucas took over the story.

"We've been tailing the drug activity in the southwest for some time. We had our eye on a dealer named Alejandro Cabal and knew he was getting his supply from Johnny Leftall, but we had no idea who was supplying Leftall. Leftall was just the runner. We doubted – and we're pretty sure now after we searched his house and after all we turned up in this case – that Johnny probably had no idea who exactly he was working for up until the day he met Pickford and Pickford killed him. We think, based on what Rocco Lipari told Walker and Trivette, that Ms. Felder would recruit runners for Pickford. She'd meet them at Rowdy's, fill them in on the job and give them a number to call. They'd call, be told where and when to pick up a shipment and where to take it to, and when they made the delivery, they'd get paid. The runners never saw anyone. They just saw the product.

"Pickford was running the drugs through the border patrol office. It was the perfect front, and he was able to run probably millions of dollars' worth of drugs through that office that were eventually distributed throughout the southwest. He was, effectively, one of the biggest drug kingpins we've taken down in the history of the agency. Pickford knew people and with his being sheriff, nobody ever suspected him. He had Patrick Ortiz help get the office set up. Took us a while to find the connection with Ortiz, but it turns out, Pickford had worked with Ortiz's dad years ago on the police force. When Ortiz's dad died, Pickford stepped in as a father figure. He was pretty disappointed when Ortiz got messed up on drugs and said if he helped him out and got him back into the DA's office, Ortiz would owe him. Ortiz would get Pickford's men off if they got arrested, he wrote up fake paperwork for him, he had fines dismissed, he did everything he could to keep Pickford's operation running and in return, Pickford endorsed the hell out of him. Got him back into the DA's office and nobody thought any better of it. Everyone thought these two were a crime-fighting machine. Up until now, nobody had a clue they were as dirty as they came."

"But what was Johnny Leftall doing selling cornstarch?" Alex asked. It was a question that had puzzled her since the day they'd brought Leftall in for questioning.

"We think Johnny decided he wanted in on the action, and that he was cutting the coke with cornstarch so he could take half the coke to keep for himself to sell on the side. Only, he didn't know that somebody from the cartel – and we're still trying to figure out who that might be – decided to screw with Pickford, I don't know, maybe Pickford pissed them off or something, and started sending pure cornstarch instead of coke. When Johnny started splitting those blocks of coke with cornstarch, he had no idea he was cutting cornstarch with more cornstarch."

There were snickers all around the table.

"He really was the dumbest drug dealer ever to come to Dallas," Alex mused.

"Yes, and it got him killed," Walker noted.

"So why did Pickford kill Ortiz?" Erika asked.

"We think it's because we came across the fact that he was the one that requisitioned the border patrol office and we were about to question him about it. Pickford was afraid he'd talk. It's the same reason he ordered a hit on Sharon Felder. He knew we found out that Johnny Leftall frequented Rowdy's and he was worried Sharon would talk, too."

"She was about to," Walker said.

"Yeah," Trivette agreed. "All it took was someone to buy her a drink to get her lips going."

"Apparently she liked to drink and talk," Lucas added. "It's a shame you couldn't have gotten her to talk more."

"Rocco Lipari told us enough. It's a shame he went into hiding," Walker said. "I wonder if he'll come back if he knows Pickford's locked up."

"It would be a huge help to our case if he did. We don't need him, but every bit of evidence we can get against Pickford means the longer he'll be put away and the less chance he'll ever stand of being a free man," Lucas replied.

Sydney listened intently, shaking her head. "They don't write TV crime dramas with this many twists and turns," she said. "This is insane. I can't believe that what was supposed to be a simple suspect transport would lead to breaking such a huge case. Or that we were right in the middle of it, nearly got killed how many times, and had no idea what was going on." For a quick moment, Sydney rested her hand on Gage's knee under the table where nobody could see and looked up at him, her dark eyes brimming with tears.

Gage squeezed her shoulders in a quick hug. "The important thing is, Syd, we're both home safe and we'll be back to work soon. We had one hell of an adventure, and while I can't say I'd like to do all of it all over again, I will say that if I ever find myself stranded in the middle of nowhere again, I hope I have you to count on the next time, too."

"If it wasn't for you two, we never would have cracked this case. You led us right where we needed to go," Agent Lucas pointed out. "No wonder Walker was so determined to find you two. Makes me wish you were federal agents instead of Rangers. Any chance of switching career paths?"

"That's very flattering, but I think I'm content to stay right here in Dallas," Sydney replied.

"Yeah, me too," Gage added. "Took us a hell of a time to get back here!"

"Well, then," Lucas raised his drink in salute. "To Sydney and Gage!"

"Here, here!" came the replies from around the table.

* * *

Gage appeared at the door with a plate in hand. Alex had chased him out of the kitchen, but not before giving him one more slice of Connie Jensen's chocolate cake. Sydney slid over on the porch swing, moving her crutches out of the way to make room for him.

"Where's mine?" she asked, eyeing the large slab of fudgy decadence.

"I only have one hand to carry a plate." Gage replied.

"Oh, well, then I guess this is mine then," Sydney reached for the plate.

"Oh, no you don't!" Gage held the plate out of her reach.

"Now you're just being mean!"

Gage offered a forkful of cake to Sydney who opened her mouth to him like a baby bird. "Am I now?" he asked as she took a bite of cake.

"Mmm mmm," she mumbled as thoughts ran through her head. Cake. Wedding cake. Little white wedding chapels and Elvis.

* * *

From inside, Alex could see Sydney and Gage sitting close together on the porch swing. They were talking in low whispers, laughing and smiling, and Alex could have sworn she saw them kiss. Finally! She had always thought Sydney and Gage would be perfect together and she'd thrown a few hints their direction but neither one seemed to take the bait. She'd even paired them up at her wedding, and still nothing happened. She was starting to think she was going to have to take the more direct approach, maybe even the baseball-bat-upside-the-head approach, to make those two see that they were meant for each other but it looked like maybe they had finally figured it out for themselves. Alex smiled to herself. At least Walker wouldn't give her any grief about playing matchmaker and she could just sit back and wait to help plan a fantastic wedding. She was looking forward to that, especially now that Jimmy and Erika had this crazy notion about eloping.

"What are you smiling about?"

Alex jumped, nearly dropping the coffee mug in her hand. She hadn't heard Walker come in from the barn, and his question startled her.

"Hi, honey." Alex greeted her husband with a kiss. She nodded to the porch. "Those two. It's about time, don't you think?"

Walker leaned against the doorway and watched his two junior rangers for a few moments as they were all but snuggled together on the porch swing. He grinned and shook his head. He figured as much. It had only been a matter of time.

"They're just the cutest couple," Alex gushed. "I'm so happy they finally figured out that they're meant for each other."

"Yeah. It's a shame, though, that the department has rules about fraternization," Walker replied, a serious look on his face.

"Walker! You wouldn't dare!"

"Rules are rules, Alex. I should probably go have a talk with them now before this gets too out of hand."

Alex's eyes flashed fire. "Cordell Walker, if you even think of enforcing those rules, you'll be sleeping in that barn."

"Of course," Walker paused thoughtfully, "I could just have them switch partners, split them up at work. Maybe Gage could work with Jimmy and Sydney could work with me."

"Walker." Alex's voice was stern.

"Yes, Alex?"

"You had better hope that Amigo doesn't snore."

Walker laughed and pulled Alex into a hug as she tried to duck away. "I'm just teasing, Alex! I am pretty sure the department can overlook the rules for those two. We've all only been rooting for them ever since they were first partnered up. Besides, I don't know anyone else besides Sydney who can keep Gage in line, do you?"

Alex playfully swatted her husband on the arm. "Oh, Walker!" She laughed, kissing him. "I have a feeling we'll be planning another wedding before too long!"

Walker returned the kiss before responding. "I have a feeling you're right."

* * *

"Do you think they figured it out?" Sydney asked. "I feel like everyone was watching us and they all know what's going on."

"They were watching us because we were telling them what happened. That's all," Gage answered.

"You didn't feel uncomfortable?"

"Me? No. You worry too much, Syd."

"I'm just worried about what Walker will say."

"Maybe we should tell him. First thing tomorrow, let's tell him. Worst thing he can do is fire one of us, or both of us. "

"That's pretty bad," Sydney pointed out.

"We're both off work right now as it is. How much worse can it get?"

"I guess you're right."

"Syd, it's not like we don't have options. We'll make it work. You need to quit worrying."

"I can't help it. I am worried."

"Well help it. Quit worrying. Because I can't kiss you when you're telling me how worried you are."

Sydney started to say something but Gage silenced any further comment from her with a kiss.

"See? See how much better things are when you don't worry?"

"I guess you're right," Sydney laughed. "Oh, could you hand me my phone?" Sydney pointed to the stand next to the porch swing.

Gage handed her the cell phone. "You better not be calling Kevin," he teased.

"I'm not. I'm putting you in my speed dial."

"What for? Didn't you say I wasn't in your speed dial because I'm always with you?"

"Yes, but I figure it's about time."

"Well, I figure it's about pointless," Gage answered, taking the cell phone away from Sydney and kissing her again.

"Why's that?" Sydney asked when they broke off the kiss.

"Because you won't ever have a need to call me if I'm never away from you,"

"Is that right?" Sydney asked.

"Yes it is. And for the record, I don't ever plan on being away from you," Gage replied before wrapping his arms around Sydney and pulling her close for a long, slow kiss.

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much for reading and staying with this story even though it took me so long to finish it! I really appreciate all the reviews and messages. I'd like to wish all of you the happiest of holidays! If you haven't read any of my other stories, please do! I have more stories in mind and hope to bring them to you in the new year! **_


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